


Ghost in the Machine

by TyChou



Series: Small Problems [2]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Still some fluff in it too, kind of a Halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-03-06 15:10:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyChou/pseuds/TyChou
Summary: Decepticons are suddenly disappearing. But that's hardly the Autobot's problem, right?Sequel to "Small Problems".





	1. Prologue

**Ghost in the Machine**

**By: Ty-Chou**

**Prologue**

 

Crystal Carlisle stepped out of her apartment, skirt pressed and heels clacking on the sidewalk. Life was better than it had been for a while. Her new job working as a secretary for a law firm earned a good deal more than her last job in New York. Her apartment was slowly being refurnished and she was learning her way around the Portland area.

Everything was going well and seemed to be settling back into normalcy. All the robots in her life, both small and large, began to feel like a thing of the past. She told herself this was what she wanted. She needed stable, she needed normal. No more transforming robots, no more talking machines.

"Hey!"

Crystal jumped when the flashy yellow Lamborghini barked at her as she passed by. Clutching her purse, she stared owlishly at the vehicle, heart racing.

"What? You're not even going to say hi?" the Lamborghini grouched.

Crystal's eyes fell over the large red insignia painted on the hood.

"Oh, you're an Autobot," she sighed with relief.

"Of course I'm an Autobot! What else would I be?"

Crystal rapidly blinked at the machine. This was the surliest Autobot she had ever met. What did he want from her?

"Is there ... any particular reason you're here?"

The Lamborghini paused. "You don't remember me, do you?"

She shook her head. "No. Should I have?"

There was a growl from the Lamborghini's engine. “But you said- I got slagged to scrap for you! Gah! This is why I don't like humans!"

With one more loud roar, the Lamborghini sped off, tires squealing in offense.

Crystal watched it go, having no idea what just happened.

* * *

 

It was boring in the Ark surveillance room. Boring, mostly, for Jazz. Probably not boring for Prowl. Prowl had a knack for being enthralled with the mundane, so Jazz was sure he was doing just fine. Optimus was probably okay, too. The bot was infused with the patience of Primus himself. Both would have told Jazz that it wasn't the job that was boring, it was merely that Jazz wasn't working hard enough to keep himself busy.

The problem was that there really wasn't much to do. There had been odd Decepticon activity popping up here and there, but none doing anything conceivable that would warrant a response. As a result, the Autobots remained vigilant about their surveillance. Though in Jazz's opinion, the Decepticons' master plan seemed to be forcing him into full time duty without any activity to monitor.

They were diabolical! He couldn't let the Decepticons win! Time for a plan of action.

Prowl's shoulders stiffened, despite the fact that Jazz hadn't physically moved or said anything. Still, he was already busted, but Jazz didn't care. It was too late to stop him now, the phone was already ringing.

"Hello?" answered a female voice on the other end.

"Hey Crys! How you doing?" Jazz said out loud. The other Autobots in the room could hear him. Now they were all aware he was speaking on an outbound frequency. Prowl frowned at him.

There was a pause on the other line.

"It's me, Jazz."

Still no answer.

"Crys, you there?"

"Yeah, I'm here. Sorry, I was just really surprised you called me."

There was amusement in Jazz's voice. "Why wouldn't I call you?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe you would be too busy."

"Not busy right now. A bit bored, actually."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, unless you don't want me to call you..."

Crystal laughed. "No, I love that you called. It's great to hear from you."

“Yeah, you too.”

The two fell into silence, suddenly unsure how to continue the conversation.

"So," Crystal spoke up, “what are you wearing?"

Confused at the question, Jazz looked down at himself. "Uh, nothing."

"Ooh-la-la Jazz! That's hot!"

He grinned. "So does that mean I can take you out?"

"Where to?" Crystal teased. "Sonic and the drive-in?"

"Oh, harsh, Crys. You're so mean."

Crystal laughed again. "You know I'd always love to go out with you."

Jazz felt a hand on his shoulder: Prowl's. Jazz protested as the contact permitted Prowl to hack into his phone call.

"Hey, don't you need my permission to do that?" Jazz protested.

"Crystal," Prowl spoke.

"Hey, Prowl! How's it going? Sounds like you guys are having a pretty slow night."

"So far, but it could change at any time. Where are you?"

"Just out for a walk."

Prowl frowned. "It's dark outside."

"It's fine. I've still got a little light left."

"I hope you're heading home."

"Yes, Mom."

"I'm not your mom."

"Exactly, Prowl."

Prowl glared at Jazz's smug grin. "Is there something wrong with me worrying about your safety?"

There was humor in Crystal's voice as she replied. "No, there's not. Thank you, Prowl," she sing-songed the last part.

Sideswipe, who was the fourth Autobot doing monitor duty that night, grabbed Jazz's other shoulder.

"Hey, are you talking to that girl Sunny hates?"

"Who's that?" Crystal asked. "He sounds cute!"

“Alright, you guys are crowding my personal space,” Jazz announced. “Back off, both of you.” He slapped them away.

“Okay, Jazz, well I gotta go,” Crystal said. “But feel free to call me again okay?”

“Sure! You can count on it!”

“Great! Okay, Jazz, good night.” She paused and then added, “I love you.”

“Woo! Back atcha babe!”

“And tell Prowl I love him, too.”

“Hey, Prowl,” Jazz called. “Crystal says she _loves_ you!”

A momentary glimpse of horror crossed Prowl’s face plate before he turned around and muttered something under his breath.

“Prowl says he loves you, too, forever and ever.”

Prowl’s head snapped back sharply. His glare told that it most certainly was not what he said.

“Aww, that’s sweet,” Crystal responded. “Who else is there?”

“Prime’s here, too,” Jazz said in the quiet control room. He paused to listen. “Hey, Prime, Crystal says she loves you, too.”

Their leader turned from the control panel. “Tell her thank you and it is reciprocated.”

“Prime says ditto,” Jazz relayed into the phone. “Okay, talk to you later, Crys. Bye.” He hung up with a goofy grin on his face and leaned back to prop his feet on the control panel.

Sideswipe eyed him suspiciously. “What’s up with you acting all stupid over some human? Yeah, she’s female, but where would you two live?”

“Nah, it’s not like that, man,” Jazz insisted. “She saved my life. She’s like my hero.”

Sideswipe looked doubtful. “For real, Jazz?”

“Yeah. Well, not like how Prowl is my hero. But, you know, close to that.”

“Prowl’s my hero, too,” Sideswipe confided. “I want to be just like him.”

“You’re definitely going to have to work harder then,” Prowl monotoned.

Sideswipe sat up in his chair. “Did Prowl just make a joke?”

“No,” Prowl insisted. “If you really do want to be like me, you’re hardly making an effort.”

Sideswipe slumped again.

Optimus chuckled.

The doors opened and Tracks walked in.

“You wanted to see me, Prowl?”

“Yes.” Prowl led the blue Corvette out of the surveillance room. “I have a specific assignment for you.”

* * *

 

There was a rhythmic tap-tap-tapping in the silent Decepticon control room as Megatron tapped his finger in a vain attempt to channel his restlessness. Near his feet lay Ravage with his head on his paws. The panther was nearly invisible in the dimly lit room, save for his glowing red optics.

He lifted his head when Megatron shifted and paced a few steps. When it was apparent nothing else was going on, Ravage put his head down again.

“Megatron,” Soundwave turned from his screens, “Decepticon signatures approaching.”

Megatron stiffened. This was what he was waiting for.

“Soundwave, raise the tower,” he ordered.

The surveillance room lurched as it began to ascend. A sharp spire rose from the chilled depths of the Pacific Ocean. It cut through the serene blue on blue of the sky and ocean like a dark, dripping blade. Seagulls squawked and floated around it curiously as the ramp folded out like a gaping mouth.

Megatron stood there waiting as two Decepticons, Thundercracker and Blitzwing, flew in and transformed. Thundercracker was in front, wings hunched as he approached his leader without a word.

His silent report along with the regretful expression on his face was all Megatron needed to know. A deep, troubled frown marred the face plate of the Decepticon leader. Something was very wrong and someone needed to pay.

 


	2. Faceless

**Ghost in the Machine**

**Chapter One: Faceless**

**October 26**

 

Daniel Witwicky stepped out of his high school, shoulders slumped and looking bored. After school detention had a way of doing that to young minds such as his. The building had long since been vacated by most of the students, with only a fellow detentionees and after school club members loitering around.

"Mr. Witwicky, do you have a ride home?" Mr. Phillips, the teacher in charge of detention called.

It took a moment for Daniel to realize he was being addressed before he turned his head. His teachers all knew both his parents worked full time. But for his family, getting a ride anywhere had never been a problem.

"Yes," Daniel sighed. "One of my parent's friends will come get me, no doubt."

As if conjured by the mere mention, a yellow Volkswagen Beetle drove up in front of the school.

"And there he is," Daniel said as he grabbed his bag.

Before he could approach the vehicle, however, it transformed into a large, yellow robot. To the teacher's surprise and Daniel's horror, the robot began walking toward the school.

"Hi, I'm Bumblebee," he greeted with a cheery tone. "I'm here to pick up Daniel."

Mr. Phillips stared at him, mouth agape. He knew about the Autobots- everyone in Portland did. But this was the closest he had ever been to one and now it was talking to him. For once, the English teacher had nothing to say.

But Daniel did.

"Bumblebee, what are you doing?" the teenager hissed.

"I just want to thank you for taking care of our Daniel for us," Bumblebee continued as if he wasn't there. The giant robot reached out a hand to shake with the startled teacher.

Daniel interceded before contact could be made, pushing the taller Autobot in the midsection.

"Knock it off. Get off the steps!" Daniel insistently tried to herd the Autobot back toward the parking lot.

"But I was just-" Bumblebee tried.

"No, leave him alone!" Daniel could feel his face growing red. He was lucky the school was almost empty. The last thing he needed was for all his peers to see some dorky, happy robot try to buddy up with the teachers.

"Get back in the parking lot. Transform, now."

"Daniel, I only want to--"

"I said TRANSFORM," Daniel growled between his teeth.

Bumblebee silenced himself and transformed without any further objection. Daniel quickly climbed into the passenger seat, slamming the door on his aged teacher who was still trying to recover from the encounter.

"Drive, Bee! Drive!"

The yellow Beetle started off at a moderate pace out of the school parking lot. Daniel continued to look annoyed. He thought Bumblebee was going deliberately slow. He brooded for a while until the school was out of sight.

"You did that on purpose."

"Did what?" Bumblebee asked, voice dripping with innocence.

"You were embarrassing me!"

"You think I'm embarrassing?" There was genuine disbelief in the Autobot's voice. "When Spike was your age, he introduced me to everyone he knew. He wasn't ashamed to be seen with me at all. Why don't we hang out like that?"

Daniel frowned. "I'm a teenager. I don't hang out with my dad's friends!"

Bumblebee was quiet. For a moment, it appeared as if his feelings had been hurt.

"Hey Daniel, back there you called me 'Bee' like when you were little."

Daniel covered his face in one hand. "I only called you that when I couldn't pronounce your name. It's been years, Bumblebee."

"I know, but I miss it. It was so cute!"

Daniel gave the type of frustrated sigh only teenagers can give. "You're so lame."

"Your hair was a different color back then, too. And the way you dress. It's like you're trying to be someone else."

Daniel tugged at his straight black hair. Indeed, it was different from the curly brown hair he was born with. "It's just hair dye. It's not a big deal. It would be like ... getting a new paint job for you. And I'm not trying to be a different person. This is who I am. Jeez, between you and my mom..."

Bumblebee drove out to a compound near the edge of the city. Full of new, shiny buildings, the entire area was fenced off with cameras watching at every corner. The Cyber-Tech logo was splayed in bold letters out front. The security guard let them in on sight and Bumblebee pulled up to the main complex where a professionally dressed blonde was waiting for them.

Carly Witwicky was one of the founders of Cyber-Tech, a research and development company that specialized in the marriage of Earth and Cybertronian technology, and how it could be used for the betterment of humankind.

Carly was the head of the development department and the main breadwinner in the Witwicky family. Her salary alone could easily support her family in comfort, but her husband Spike still insisted on keeping himself busy and pursed his own passions. Since his early days in construction, he had gone on to finish college with an architectural degree and found his talents to be in pretty high demand. It sometimes meant the couple didn't get to see much of each other, but they were each doing what they loved and managed to find quality time together when it mattered.

"Hello, Bumblebee," Carly greeted as she sat in the Autobot's driver seat. "Thanks for picking Daniel and me up. Sparkplug said he'll be working on the car for at least another day. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all! I'm always happy to help," the Autobot chirped.

As he drove out of the compound, Carly turned her attention to her son.

"Did you finish your detention time, Daniel?"

He sighed. "Yes, Mom."

"Good, but you're still grounded for one more week."

Daniel shot up from his slouch. "But Mom-"

"Daniel," Carly said sternly. "You trespassed on school property."

"I know, but I told you, we were just trying-"

"And you broke a window."

"We didn't mean to!"

"Daniel! We already agreed on your punishment, remember?"

"But Mom, what about Halloween? I've had plans with the guys forever! Isn't there anything I can do? I'll take another week if you give me Halloween off."

Carly's stern expression lifted. "Tell you what, you start right on your chores when we get home and I'll talk to your father. Maybe he'll agree if you take a chaperone."

"I'll go!" Bumblebee volunteered.

Daniel wildly waved that he did not like that idea at all.

"I _can_ see you shaking your head, Daniel," Bumblebee accused.

"We'll talk about this later," Carly promised as Bumblebee pulled up outside the Witwicky home.

Daniel did not wait for his mother as he dramatically grabbed his bag and trudged up to the house.

"I miss that cute, happy kid he used to be," Bumblebee said. "He used to love to go for drives with me. Now I just seem to embarrass him."

Carly checked her hair in the rear view mirror. "He's a teenager, Bumblebee, everyone embarrasses him. It's just the way they are. Don't let it bother you. He'll grow out of it eventually. I’m just happy he’s not to the point where he’s wearing black lipstick and writing angry poetry."

She got out and closed the door behind her. "Thanks again, Bumblebee. I don't know what we would do without you. Come by anytime. I'm sure Spike would love to see you."

"I'll do what I can. Take care and I'll come pick you up tomorrow morning."

Carly waved as the yellow Autobot drove out of sight.

* * *

 

 

The attack came without warning. It was sudden and with all the strength the Decepticons could muster. Only seconds after Teletraan One sounded the klaxon, the base began to shake from the force of the invasion.

In the communication room, Prowl scrambled to rally Autobots and order them into position. He hated to admit it, though while they had been on high alert, a direct attack on their own stronghold was not something any of them were prepared for. This was not Megatron's style. From all indications, the Decepticons had been up to something, but none of the Autobots could have guessed that something was to bulldoze their front door.

The Decepticons easily overpowered two guards posted outside before the raid and now had hostages. All Autobots on the premises responded instantly to the attack, pouring out the front of the Ark to defend their home. Fire was exchanged on both sides as Optimus Prime came racing through, weapon in his hand. He paused as he assessed the situation.

To Megatron's right, Soundwave dragged an unconscious Windcharger while, to his left, Dirge had Cliffjumper slung lifelessly over his shoulder.

Optimus stayed his trigger finger at the sight of the hostages.

"Autobots, hold your fire!"

The Autobots were slowly surrounding the smaller group of Decepticons like a swarm of hornets. All their weapons were drawn, but not a single one fired as Optimus gave the command.

Optimus Prime himself had his blaster aimed right for Megatron's head.

"You're surrounded, Megatron. This time you've gone too far!" the Autobot leader demanded. "Explain yourself!"

"It is _you_ who should explain!" Megatron bellowed, none too intimidated by the Autobots' show of force. "Where are my troops, Prime? I demand you release them to me now!"

"Megs has finally blown something permanent," Jazz muttered.

"Your troops?" Optimus repeated. "What are you talking about?"

Megatron lowered his arm cannon to Windcharger's head. "Don't play stupid with me, Prime! It is one thing to fell my warriors in battle, but to pick them off one by one right under my nose- I thought you of more honor!"

Confusion passed through the Autobots' faces as they looked at each other.

"Release my troops to me immediately!" Megatron ordered.

"We don't have them,” Optimus insisted. “There are no Decepticons here."

"Except for you slaggers who messed up our front door," Sunstreaker snarled from the side of the volcano, his blaster pointed at their heads.

"We have not done anything to your troops," Optimus continued before anyone could retort and start a fight. "Now, look around you; you're surrounded. If you don't want to lose more of your numbers, I suggest you put my Autobots down and leave the way you came right now."

Megatron took a moment to rub his chin in thought. The several Autobot weapons aimed at his head did little to hurry his decision along.

"Very well, I will take your word for it this time. But I leave you this warning, Prime. Something odd is going on here and Primus help you if you had anything to do with it."

He turned and led his Decepticons out, but there were still fully armed Autobots in his way.

"Ya still got something 'a ours," Ironhide reminded.

Megatron nodded as if remembering where he left his keys and with a flick of an arm, ordered Windcharger and Cliffjumper to be released. The two Autobots were dropped on the floor like so much scrap while the Decepticons were allowed to vacate unmolested. Ratchet ran to assist their wounded comrades.

Sunstreaker put his blaster away as he watched the Decepticons fly away into the distance. "Well that made a whole lotta nonsense. Them Decepticons ain't processing with a full motherboard anymore."

"That was outstanding grammar, Sunstreaker," said Tracks as he walked by.

"I'm just saying ‘ol Megs seems to have a few screws loose is all. I mean, what kind of idiot crashes in here demanding things we don't have? It's not exactly our fault that Megatron can't keep track of his lackeys, so why should it be our problem?"

"I dunno, man, it might become our problem," Jazz put in. "If whatever is picking off Decepticons decides it wants to pick us off, too."

"Maybe they're on our side," Huffer offered. "Maybe it's humans finally deciding to help us out or another alien life form that's enemies of the Decepticons. I'm sure they have more than a few of those."

Optimus Prime looked thoughtful before turning to his communicator. "Did you hear all that, Prowl?"

"Most of it," Prowl's voice radioed back. "I checked all the monitors during the raid. I didn't see any sign of Starscream, Skywarp, Ramjet or Astrotrain."

"Not exactly the brightest crayons in the bunch," Brawn said. "Maybe their own stupidity did them in."

"Too much to hope for, I'm sure," Tracks sniffed.

"Either way," Prowl's voice continued "I believe it would be unwise to assume whatever happened to those Decepticons won't happen to any of us. In a way, we might even have Megatron to thank for this early warning."

"Thanks, my rear exhaust!" Brawn grouched as he stomped off. "If he wants thanks, he can come back and fix our entrance because I'll be slagged if I'm doing it."

The other Autobots took his vow with good humor. Wheeljack would no doubt ask for his help with the large parts and he would end up doing it, grumbling all the way.

"I believe it would definitely be worth our while to at least look into this," Prowl's voice continued.

"Agreed," said Optimus. "Prowl, this is your specialty. Get a research team on it. Prime out."

* * *

 

 

"So they just flew in and attacked your front door?" Crystal asked, eyes wide.

"Yeah," Jazz confirmed to the human in his passenger seat. "We didn't even know what 'Ol Megs was roaring about until he demanded Prime release all this troops. Apparently he's been missing some and doesn't know what happened to them."

"And you don't have them, right?"

"Of course not. That's not our style. Plus we'd have nowhere to keep them. We've tried building holding cells for the Cons before, but we just don't have the right equipment to keep them locked up proper. They always bust out eventually."

Crystal looked thoughtful, but didn't have anything else to say about the matter.

"If you ask me," Jazz continued, “the fact that Starscream was one of the missing Cons should have made Megatron suspicious of other reasons besides us."

Crystal tipped her head. "Starscream is the..."

"He's that tall red and white one that almost slagged us that one time, remember?"

"I remember," Crystal said lowly as she looked out the window. She could still see those cold, glowing optics. The memory had even popped up in a nightmare or two since the incident. Then she turned her eyes back to the dash board. "So why is this Starscream's disappearance so significant?"

"Starscream has the most two-faced spark I've ever heard of. That Con is never happy unless he's scheming against someone. And Megatron himself is his favorite chump for the job. Don't even ask me why Megs keeps him around. Let's just say this wouldn't be the first time Starscream has taken off with a few Decepticons to help him with some plans of his own."

"I see."

"If that's the case, I don't see how it's our business. But Prowl wants us to look into it and make sure none of this will come back to bite us in the bumper."

A ghost of a smile crossed Crystal's face at his mention. "How is Prowl doing anyway?"

"Serious as ever, but having the time of his life. Prowl lives for this kind of stuff. He likes a good mystery."

Crystal chewed on her lip for a moment. "Would it be selfish of me to request he come see me sometime? I know he's busy and his job is important, but-"

"Of course it's not! It's good for him to get away from work now and then. He takes everything way too seriously. In fact," Jazz added with a playful tone, “we could drive down to the base and go bug him right now."

A timid look crossed her face. "Um, I'm not sure I'm ready for that quite yet."

"Alright, alright," Jazz said with both tolerance and humor. "But the offer is always open whenever you want to take it."

"That's okay. I wouldn't want to bother you guys."

"But it's no problem, honest. I'll even show you my room." He gave a suggestive growl.

Crystal managed to look amused. "I'll think about it."

"That means no, doesn't it?" The humor in Jazz's voice was suddenly gone.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because that's what it means when Prowl says it."

To this, Crystal laughed. "I guess that's something we have in common."

Jazz grumbled something too low to hear and then spoke up. "So, you going to tell me what all that is about now?"

Crystal didn't have to ask to what he was referring to. She glanced guiltily at all the chocolate wrappers decorating her lap.

"Oh, well, I guess it was just one of those weeks."

Jazz was quiet for a moment. "I don't follow. What does that mean?"

Crystal grinned. She found his lack of human female knowledge amusing. "To put it simply, most women find comfort in junk food after a hard day."

"It looks like you had a hard couple of days."

Crystal, for the first time, guiltily tallied up the amount of chocolate she had consumed in the past twenty minutes. She was probably going to have to buy another bag of candy before Halloween for the trick-or-treaters.

"Yeah, you could say that."

"Want to tell me about it?"

She thought about it. Crystal wasn't exactly sure Jazz would understand her problems. But maybe it would be good to just get it out and have someone listen anyway.

"To put it as simply as I can, Jazz, being single sucks. All the women at my work are married or engaged. Even the one younger than me. And they treat me like some charity case. 'Poor Crystal needs a man to be happy. Let's all try to find _something_ for her and put her out of her misery.'"

"So you don't want one?" Jazz asked.

"No! I mean, yes. Yes, I want one. In fact, I really want one. But that's not the point. My life isn't lacking purpose because I don't have a man. I'm doing just fine on my own for the time being, but they all act like I'm getting too old and time is running out."

"… Are you?" Jazz wondered.

"I'm only twenty-two!"

"So ... no?"

Crystal gave an exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry! I don't know about these things!" said the Autobot.

Crystal continued to frown.

"So what happened then?" Jazz continued. "I'd be a bit disappointed in you if the talk of a few women put you in this mood."

"Well," Crystal admitted. "I finally agreed to be set up with a blind date."

"Ah. Should I even ask how that went?"

Crystal popped another chocolate in her mouth. "Let's just say I now don't mind if I'm single for another twenty-two years and leave it at that."

Jazz wisely did; but then said, "You should just date me and that will solve all your problems."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Why not? Then they'll leave you alone.”

“Or they'll demand to see pictures or ask that my new boyfriend drop by. What would I say then? 'Sorry, he's a giant robot that turns into a car. If you want to meet him, he'll be in the parking lot to pick me up for lunch.'”

“I would so pick you up for lunch.”

“Aw, we should do lunch sometime. But I highly doubt me dating a metal alien several times my size would fix the problem. Though they may stop trying to hook me up with their lame brothers-slash-friends, they may just stop talking to me altogether with my new … predilections.”

“Whatever, they'd just be jealous because I'm so hot.”

“Yes, Jazz, that's exactly what it would be.”

“Fine, just tell them I'm human. Tell them I'm devilishly good looking, but too shy to visit. But I do have a sexy phone voice and a very attractive car mode.”

Crystal burst out laughing. “Car, you have a very attractive car.”

“Well, thank you.”

“I certainly appreciate the willingness for deception Jazz, but I’m not going to lie to my co-workers. I’m a big girl. I can handle the truth.”

“We could still date if you wanted, I wouldn't mind.”

“You’re such a dork, Jazz. Do you even know what dating is?”

Silence from the Porsche.

“I thought so.”

“Well, it’s kind of like what we’re doing right now, isn’t it?” Jazz tried.

Crystal thought about it. “I suppose, in a way. Though on a real date we would do a bit more than just sitting in a parking lot and I wouldn’t be paying for my own chocolate.”

“Well I _am_ paying for the gas,” said Jazz, offense clear in his voice.

Crystal tried to stifle a giggle. “I’m sorry, Jazz. Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Yeah, a little,” came the muttered reply.

“I’m sorry.” Crystal rested her cheek and arms on the dashboard, spilling chocolate wrappers all over the floor of the car. “You know I love you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you can always take me out any time you want, which is something no other man can say.”

“Cool. Oh, and Prowl wanted me to ask you if you have any other favorite stories. Though I’m not sure why.”

Crystal laughed right out. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

* * *

 

 

The next night, Carly stayed late at Cyber-Tech, well after dark. Sparkplug had finished repairing her car, which allowed her to stay as long as she wanted to finish her notes and projects before the weekend. It was nearly 9:00 PM and most of the staff had gone home for the night. Carly was getting ready to pack it up herself when a horrible crash rocked the building.

After years of living with sentient robots, the very first thing that popped into Carly's mind was a Decepticon attack. She ran out of her office toward the source of the chaos. The building rocked as if hit by an earthquake as Carly ran into the main development area, a large warehouse-like space, to find a massive hole torn into the wall.

Three robotic behemoths let themselves in as Carly ducked out of sight.

“Of course it's Decepticons,” she muttered to herself.

The remaining building staff was nowhere to be found. Most likely they had already fled to a safe place and, hopefully, were attempting to call authorities.

Carly hid behind a bulky work station as she observed the Decepticons, trying to figure out what they were after. She named off Skywarp and Ramjet as they grabbed different pieces of machinery and stuffed them into Astrotrain’s cargo hold. Skywarp turned to attend to a different task, plugging himself into one of the main computers and helping himself to massive amounts of research and information.

Carly squinted as she watched them. Something was off. The way they moved, the way they acted, it was all wrong. They were stiff and silent. No talking, no grumbling or bickering. And there wasn’t any sign of Megatron, Starscream or Soundwave. No unit leader of any kind. This was fishy.

Then Carly noticed something that really turned on the warning bells.

“Their faces,” she gasped, hand over her mouth.

Ramjet turned in her direction and Carly saw a gaping mass of metal and circuitry where his frowning face plate used to be; a haunting, robotic skull. The only facial feature still intact was the glowing red optics.

She caught a glimpse of Skywarp and found he was in the same condition. Something was wrong. Even for Decepticons, something was very wrong.

Carly reached in her pocket and pulled out a small communication device that looked similar to a cell phone. Lately she had been using it to ask for transportation to and from work. This was for an entirely different reason.

“This is Prowl. Go ahead Carly. What can I do for you?”

“Prowl!” Carly hissed into the receiver. “I’m at work. The Decepticons broke into our main building. They’re stealing everything!”

“Confirmed, Carly. I’ll send Autobots down now. Stay out of sight and wait for them. Do _not_ attempt to engage the Decepticons on any level. Do you understand me?”

Carly fought the urge to roll her eyes. He still treated her like she was that headstrong teenager they first met. Prowl never seemed to understand that humans could grow and mature. She was no longer the reckless, stupid kid she used to be; young and believing she would live forever. The Decepticons were stealing her life’s work, but she knew better than to try and stop them. No amount of technology was worth the risk of leaving her family without a wife and mother.

She waited as Prowl instructed; keeping watch on the Decepticons' activity, but staying hidden. Though Carly wasn’t entirely sure they would have noticed if she ran out and danced for them. They moved as if on automatic; like zombies. Like _robots_.

The Decepticons did not linger too much longer. They were quick about their task before taking off into the night sky. The police arrived almost immediately after, followed by the Autobots.

“Are you sure those are the Decepticons you saw?” Hound asked, already writing up a digital report to Prowl in his processor.

Carly stood next to him outside, hugging her jacket closer to her. From her vantage point, she could see the crater left in the main building from the raid. Police were littering the grounds as well as a few Autobots here and there.

“Yeah, I’m sure it was exactly those three.”

“Precisely the Decepticons Megatron was looking for,” Hound said mostly to himself. Then he looked back to Carly. “Did you see Starscream anywhere?”

Carly blinked. “Starscream? No, I don’t believe so. But if he or any other Decepticons were outside, I wouldn’t have been able to see them.”

“Negative on that,” Jazz said as he approached them. “I went through all the external surveillance cameras. There weren’t any other Decepticons in the area.”

“Curious,” Hound responded.

“And Hound?” Carly added. “They didn’t have any faces.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the plating on their faces. It was gone. It was just wires and optics.”

Hound rubbed his chin in thought. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

“Said Alice down the rabbit hole,” Prowl’s voice fizzled as it came over the radio. “What’s the status?”

“I think we’ve found our missing Decepticons,” Hound replied. “I’ll send a report of what I have so far. Wheeljack is talking with the staff, trying to get a list of what was taken. We’ll get that to you when we can.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Thankfully, no. Carly says they were so bent on the job they didn’t even bother to put the effort into attacking anyone.”

“Good. I’ll wait for the rest of your report. Prowl out.”

“Well, I guess that’s all we can do around here,” Jazz announced. “Do you want an escort home, Carly?”

She tossed her blonde hair, eyes bright. “No thanks, I’m fine. I’m used to it by now. Thanks anyway, Jazz.”

She waved them off as she started to leave. But something made her pause and she turned around.

“Since when does Prowl read _Alice in Wonderland_?”

Hound just looked at her, but Jazz grinned.

* * *

 

 

He smiled as he watched them. They were so beautiful; shiny, precise, and running like clockwork. Ramjet diligently unloaded all the stolen robotic parts and equipment while Skywarp plugged himself into the main computer and sat motionless while he uploaded all the information he had stolen.

He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the Decepticons continue their tasks.

“It’s so nice when your equipment works the way you want it to, isn’t it, Starscream?”

He turned to the hulking figure behind him.

Starscream said not a word, but his red optics flickered as he watched from the darkness.

 

 


	3. Abduction

**Ghost in the Machine**

**Chapter Two: Abduction**

**October 29**

 

The sunset was gorgeous. To Hound, most of them were. He loved this planet even though he had only lived here but a small fraction of his very long lifetime. There were days where it felt like Earth had been waiting for him.

The cry of a hawk, the shrill whistle of the wind, the roll of the thunder: they all seemed to make themselves heard for his enjoyment. Hound listened and looked as much as he could.

Earth and Cybertron were such complete opposites. Cybertron was constant. Nothing changed except construction as buildings were redesigned or torn down from war. New levels were added to the surface to cover the old, but it never grew or changed like this planet did.

Earth was the epitome of change. Life was always growing, dying, and being reborn. Even the weather, killing everything off each winter and letting it start anew in the spring. It was a primitive, heartless and beautiful cycle, and Hound never grew tired of it.

Upon his favorite ledge in the forest, he enjoyed the color splashed around by autumn. In the distance, the engine of a jet plane rumbled through the sky. Hound thought nothing of it. Planes were always flying overhead, coming to and from the Portland airport.

The sound didn't make him turn his head from the dazzling view until he realized it was getting dramatically louder and coming right for him.

Hound leapt off his lookout right before it was peppered with laser fire. The green Autobot slid and rolled down the mountain slope, taking out boulders and trees in his wake. He reached for his weapon as the enemy jet circled around.

"This is Hound to Autobot base," he radioed. "I need back up! I think I just found the missing -Agh!" He cried out as searing hot pain burned through his back.

Hound fell forward, his body not moving. Behind him stood Skywarp: armed, unnoticed and faceless.

 

**October 31**

 

Ratchet pondered over the list of items stolen from Carly's laboratory as he had several times before within the past few days. The more he tried to put rhyme or reason to the event, the more it felt like a basic smash and grab. Ratchet wished he could say that was typical for Decepticons, but it really wasn't.

Anything outside of energy or weaspons, the Decpticons didn't just take whatever the could get their hands on. There was always a specific reason for a break in. They would obtain that which they came for and then they would leave. This incident where they clearly took anything and everything they could stumped the Autobots.

Not only their actions, but their objectives were bizarre in their own right. This government robotics facility was one of the top in the world, but for the Decepticons to be interested in it- as Carly had put it- it was like stealing a cookie recipe when you already knew how to make your own. And far better cookies than that facility could produce. While it was cutting edge for Earth, for a Cybertronian, it was rather basic stuff.

Prowl had deduced a both logical and ridiculous conclusion: humans. It was the only kind of theft that facility worried bout- technology theft from other companies. But therein lay the strangest part of the equation. Why would Decepticons help humans get technology they already had?

The next conclusion to be reached was that it was not a voluntary effort. As amazing as it seemed, all evidence pointed to the Decepticons being used against their will and, obviously, without Megatron's permission.

Kidnapped Decepticons: Con-napped, some of the Autobots playfully called it. Very few of them seemed worried or sympathetic at first. But then there came the incident Hound's abduction and everyone sobered again.

After his last transmission, Autobots were sent immediately to the scene. They arrived too late. Hound was gone and they found no evidence to suggest where he had been taken. That was two days ago, but the searched continued. It was slow going, however, with the fact that the Autobots' expert tracker was the one missing.

Ratchet did his part to help with the search by attempting to figure out the motive behind the Cyber-Tech attack. If he could just figure out what they were after, maybe he could help solve who was behind it all and where they might be.

"Hey Ratch. Been a while."

Ratchet glanced down from his station to see an older human standing by his leg.

"Sparkplug, you old fossil! What have you been up to?"

"Watch who you're calling a fossil, you rust bucket. You're older than I am."

"And still better looking," Ratchet retorted to which Sparkplug chuckled.

Daniel, who had been shadowing his grandfather, rolled his eyes. Old people.

"So what brings you out here?" Ratchet asked as he stood.

Sparkplug nodded towards his grandson. "The kid here is going to hang out with his friends tonight. He's been in a bit of trouble lately so his mother wants him to have a chaperone."

"I'll go!" Sideswipe sang, his face suddenly almost floor level with the two humans.

Sparkplug jumped at the sudden noise. Despite his size, Sideswipe had an outstanding talent for appearing out of nowhere.

"I love seeing the little mini humans in their costumes. What are you going to wear, Daniel?"

"Dressing up is for kids, Sideswipe. I don't do that anymore," Daniel informed him.

"Seventeen is still a kid," Sparkplug insisted. "And _you_ are not responsible enough to be a chaperone.” He jabbed a finger at Sideswipe.

"Aww..." The red Autobot pulled himself back to his feet.

"Here I am, ready to go," Wheeljack announced as he came in.

Apparently, he had been the one appointed for the job. Daniel didn't have as many complaints with introducing him to his friends as some other Autobots. Wheeljack had that crazy scientist thing about him that was almost cool. Most importantly, Carly believed him suitable for the task and agreed Daniel could go out despite his grounding if Wheeljack accompanied him.

"Sweet," Daniel said. "Let's get going. I don't want to be late."

“Come on, let me come,” Sideswipe urged. “You know the rules, Wheeljack. With the base on high alert, no one is allowed to leave without a buddy.”

“I’ve already got one. Cliffjumper is coming, too.”

Sideswipe managed to look offended. “Cliffjumper? But he’s...”

“Paranoid enough to watch both our backs?” Wheeljack finished. “Yeah, that’s why I asked him to come.”

Wheeljack transformed and Daniel climbed in.

“He’s not going to yell at any of my friends is he?” Daniel demanded.

“Nah, he’s just going to be around, keeping an eye out. Your friends may not even notice he’s there.”

“Fine.”

"I've really been looking forward to this, Daniel," Wheeljack continued. "I fitted myself with a bunch of extra equipment: thermal readers, audio recorders, infrared, electromagnetic field meters-"

"Yeah, yeah," Daniel cut him off. "Just go. And try to curb the science around my friends. We get enough of that at school."

Sparkplug watched as the duo drove away.

"There goes my little shithead grandson," he commented. "Spike never had such an attitude at that age. And he talks to you Autobots like you're half his size. It's Carly. She coddles him too much. Never gives that kid the discipline he needs."

Ratchet grinned. "But you still love him, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I'd still send him to boot camp if it was up to me. He needs something to straighten him out."

* * *

 

 

On they way to their destination, Wheeljack picked up one of Daniel’s friends, a girl his age named Clarissa. Carly had informed Wheeljack prior that Daniel was probably “sweet on” this human girl and anything the Autobot did around her, Daniel would be extra touchy about.

Wheeljack cared not either way. He was there to study far more interesting things than the courting habits of awkward teenagers. Though if he was, he would have to say the two of them were quite a match. Both in their dark clothes and dyed black hair (Clarissa had a purple streak in her bangs), they seemed made for each other.

Despite her dark appearance, Clarissa was pretty excited to meet Wheeljack. She sat in the passenger seat while Daniel sat in the driver's. She asked the Autobot all the basic questions, like was it hard to transform and if he could see her sitting there and watch the road at the same time? And, thoughtfully enough, if it was a bother to drive them around.

Wheeljack kindly answered all her questions and was careful not to be too overly cheerful or “sciencey” about it, per Daniel's request.

Their first destination was a seasonal haunted house where they met up with Daniel’s other friends: Jay and Trevor. Wheeljack, of course, had to wait outside in car mode while the teenagers went in to scream at fake chainsaw killers and such. The Autobot didn’t mind. He could wait for the event he had come for. Cliffjumper was parked across the street, pretending not to be a part of the group and certainly not a sentient machine.

“I don’t understand human’s needs to scare themselves with fake costumes,” the red Autobot radioed to Wheeljack while they were waiting. “You’d think with how fragile they are, they have plenty of real things to be worried about.”

Wheeljack chuckled at this. “I really couldn’t say.”

After the house of horrors, there was a stop at a burger joint for the teens and then off to the cemetery. Daniel directed Wheeljack to one of the oldest and creepiest places he knew of. The cemetery was unkempt and forgotten, giving it the proper ambiance for the night.

The teens pushed open the gate to let Wheeljack inside and found themselves a comfortable place to sit where the Autobot could transform without destroying any headstones.

“Wow, Wheeljack! You looked wicked!” Clarissa exclaimed when she saw his robot form.

“Uh... thanks?” Wheeljack looked to Daniel to confirm that, yes, it was a compliment.

“So are you going to, like, tell us if any ghosts come around?” Clarissa continued in intrigue.

“I’m not sure. I’ve never done this before so I’m not clear on what I’d be looking out for. And be to honest, I don’t really believe in this whole ‘dead human spirit finding’ or whatever you want to call it.”

Daniel glared at Wheeljack. “Ignore him guys. The robot’s a scientist. It’s kind of out of his league.”

“I believe in them,” Jay said, face serious. “The house I lived in as a kid, there was no way that place wasn’t haunted.”

“Well let’s see,” Clarissa said as she began lighting the candles she brought with her. “Maybe we can change Wheeljack’s mind.”

* * *

 

 

“ ‘She jumped when the phone rang soon after and, with a shaking hand, picked up the receiver.

“ ‘Hello?’ she asked.

“ ‘This is the operator returning the call,’ came the voice. ‘You need to get out of there, now. We traced the phone call to inside the house.’

“Cindy froze as she-”

“That’s hardly a practical move; not locking the doors when ‘Baby-sitting’ as you call it, someone’s offspring late at night.”

“Teenagers are never practical, Prowl,” Crystal sad as she lowered her book to her lap. “They’re teenagers.”

“Then why have one look after your children?”

“Because they’ll do it for cheap.”

“So a child’s safety is gambled on the lowest pay?”

“I don’t know, Prowl, it’s not like I have kids.”

There was a pause and Crystal raised her book to continue reading.

“I just don’t see how someone could sneak into your base like that. How can you not hear him make those phone calls to you in the same house?”

Crystal sighed and tossed her book over her shoulder into Prowl’s back seat.

“This holiday tradition of purposefully scaring yourself is very strange,” Prowl continued.

“Some people like the thrill it gives, the adrenaline rush of feeling as though in danger without actually being in danger.”

There was a thoughtful pause from Prowl. “Do you enjoy those things?”

“Heh, not really,” Crystal said sheepishly. “Why else am I reading these stories inside a big, safe Autobot? Being a single woman and living alone is scary enough by itself sometimes. But I still wanted to do something in the spirit of the season, you know?”

Prowl was quiet again and Crystal could hear the crickets chirping outside. They were outside the city limits on a grassy lookout with trees at their back. Any other time of year, Crystal guessed, it was probably used as a teen make out place. But this night they had it all to themselves. At least, it appeared that way. Maybe it was just the creepy stories, but sometimes she felt like there was something out there watching them.

“I still don’t believe I quite understand this holiday. This celebration of fear and the dead. I know you have a holiday to remember those who have passed already, but this...”

“Yes, Halloween is definitely a different type of holiday,” Crystal agreed. “It stems back from very superstitious times. They believed on this night the boundaries between the world of the living and the world of the dead would disappear and, depending on what you believed, it was either a good or bad thing.”

“Yes, I researched its origins. Human’s obsession with communicating with the dead I found very odd.”

“Yeah, but Halloween is hardly about that any more,” Crystal insisted.

“What is it about?”

“The candy of course!”

“Then you are keeping the spirit very well.”

Crystal looked down at the bag of candy in her lap. “I do what I can.” As an afterthought she added. “What about you Autobots? Is there any kind of holiday like that for you?”

Prowl took a while to gather his thoughts, his logic circuits trying to decide the best way to explain so he would be understood.

“We don’t have holidays. To do so, we would need a calendar, something that loops within a certain amount of days. Cybertronian time only goes forward. We never repeat things like weeks, months, or years.

“As for our fallen, very few of them truly, by your definition, die. Very specific parts have to be completely destroyed for true death to occur. Usually, the damaged body can always be rebuilt, redesigned and reactivated as long as the spark remains functional.”

“You mean like zombies or the Frankenstein monster?” Crystal blurted.

Prowl searched for those words on his internet database.

“No. It’s different.”

Crystal let it be at that. She tried to put herself in Prowl’s position. Being a living machine, it probably wasn’t as odd to them as it was to her. Hardly a parallel could be drawn between the different cultures, different _species_. What sounded macabre to her was probably quite acceptable and normal for robots who have been shot at and blown up for millions of years.

“Crystal,” Prowl spoke in the silence. “Is that true when you said it was scary living by yourself?”

Crystal opened her mouth, but before she could respond, an SOS flickered on Prowl's dashboard.

* * *

 

 

The teens had been at it for almost an hour. Clarissa instructed them to sit in a circle, holding hands. In the middle were a few glowing candles and some other trinkets. Each one took turns entreating entities to let their presence be known. Every once in a while one of them claimed to hear something or feel an icy touch.

Wheeljack, however, was extremely unimpressed. Not a thing was showing up on any of his instruments. It seemed the teenagers were merely hyping each other up into thinking these things were going on. Most of them glared at him when Wheeljack brought this up.

Trevor then suggested they try an abandoned hospital he knew of that was supposed to be haunted. The others agreed. Clarissa wanted one more try at the cemetery before they left.

“If there are any spirits around that have something to say,” she tried, “contact us now. We will listen.”

For a while, nothing happened. But then the wind picked up and the teenagers looked at each other with excitement as the tall grass whipped around them.

Wheeljack jumped to his feet. He was definitely picked up readings now, but they weren’t coming from the graveyard.

“Daniel! Get them out of here!”

It was pure reflex. The others had no idea what was going on, but Daniel reacted without thinking. He grabbed Clarissa’s wrist and yelled at all of them to run. The other two boys needed no further instruction. All of them were off like a shot to the cemetery’s front gates.

No sooner had they vacated the area, something large and loud rocketed out of the sky. A sonic boom trailed after it as it dove nose first right for Wheeljack. The Autobot braced himself and caught the jet by the wings. The force of the impact shredded and dented the ground at his feet and Wheeljack felt his shoulder sockets threatening to rip right off. The deep red paint of the jet suggested it was Ramjet. Holding the Decepticon by the wings with his engines still screaming helped Wheeljack to understand the human phrase “taking the bull by the horns”.

The screaming jet pushed him several yards, leaving deep gashes in the ground and destroying the fence. Grunting, Wheeljack managed to maneuver himself around and suddenly ducked, letting the jet shoot itself away.

He knew it was only a matter of seconds before Ramjet looped back for another attack. Wheeljack sprinted toward the frightened teens who were huddled behind Trevor’s car.

“Get everyone out of here now! Go home where it’s safe! I’ll lead him away.”

A few more steps and Wheeljack was in car mode, racing down the hill.

The teenagers were stunned as they watched, unable to move. The roar overhead told Ramjet had already righted his path and was continuing pursuit.

“Trevor, give me the keys,” Daniel said, pushing his friend to break him out of his stupor.

“Huh?”

“Give me the keys and get in the car.” Daniel’s voice was forceful and full of urgency. His friends did exactly what they were told.

Daniel started the engine with intent to go after Wheeljack when a small red vehicle suddenly pulled out in front of him and Daniel slammed on his breaks.

“Where do you think _you’re_ going?” the red car demanded.

Daniel poked his head out the window. “But Wheeljack needs help!”

“Not your kind of help he don’t!” Cliffjumper shot back. “Your job is to get your friends to safety, far away from those Decepticons.”

Daniel sighed angrily. “But–“

”Do it or I’ll run ya off the road myself!”

Daniel frowned as he watched Cliffjumper drive away. His friends, however, weren’t really complaining.

* * *

 

 

Unfortunately, while Wheeljack was built for speed, Cliffjumper was not. He was having an extremely hard time trying to catch up. Even cutting through small back roads and taking every short cut he could find was not gaining him any ground. All the while, he radioed back to base to inform them of the situation.

“Wheeljack, can you double back toward me? I’ll try to give you some cover fire,” Cliffjumper then sent to his partner.

“Ugh, I’m trying! The Cons aren’t giving me an inch!” came Wheeljack’s strained response. “They’re boxing me in! They- crap!”

Right then, the frequency began to fade out. “Pushing me ... Astrotrain ... taking me by air ... losing the signal...”

“Wheeljack! What’s going on?” Cliffjumper demanded, his voice raising in anxiety. “Hold on! I’m coming for you!”

He sped up to maximum output, but this soon proved to be a mistake. It had to be non other than Skywarp who appeared in the airspace above him and fired at the red Autobot. Cliffjumper had been caught so unaware he overcompensated his swerve and lost complete control. He hit a dip in the road and was sent spiraling nose over tail, parts flying everywhere, until he landed upside down on his hood, tires still spinning.

Skywarp transformed and landed next to the totaled vehicle. His emotionless optics scanned the Autobot and waited for instructions.

DAMAGE TOO EXCESSIVE. LEAVE IT AND RETURN.

Without so much as a background glance, the faceless seeker transformed into jet mode and left Cliffjumper to his fate.

* * *

 

 

“What’s that?” Crystal asked of the beeping dashboard.

“It’s an emergency signal,” Prowl said. He opened the channel so the radio transmission could be heard.

“Prowl,” Ironhide’s voice came over his radio. “We got a distress call from Wheeljack and Cliffjumper. Decepticons came outta nowhere and attacked. Cliffjumper's down and we believe Wheeljack's been captured and is aboard Astrotrain right now. We’re sending a rescue team after him.

“I know you’re technically off duty right now, but you’re the closest to Wheeljack’s last projected location before we lost his signal.”

“Roger that,” Prowl responded. “I’ll see what I can do. Dispatch back up for me. Prowl out.”

“Poor Wheeljack,” Crystal said when the transmission ended. “I hope he is okay.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to get out. I cannot take you with me. It will be dangerous.”

Crystal’s eyebrows shot up and she looked out to the woods where she had been feeling like something was watching her all night.

“You’re going to leave me alone at night in the middle of nowhere?”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do. I'll send for someone to pick you up.”

“And in the meantime, I’m going to get eaten by bears or raped by some wandering psycho!” Crystal insisted.

“I highly doubt that.”

“You don’t think I’m good-looking enough to get raped?” she demanded.

“I … don't know what the correct answer to that question is.”

“The correct answer is we need to go now, Wheeljack needs your help,” Crystal urged, putting on her seat belt.

“Fine, but first safe place I can find, I’m dropping you off.”

* * *

 

 

To Prowl's frustration, there was no "safe place" he could drop off his passenger as he followed the last coordinates of Wheeljack's signal. No buildings in sight. The signal took him further into the wilderness, through forest trails until reaching flat open planes. In the distance sat a suspicious building out in the middle of nowhere.

Prowl parked where he considered to be a safe distance away. The dim lights of the building could barely be made out by human eyes. His engine rumbled his dissatisfaction with the current situation. The wide open space and the tiny structure made the place look harmless. But Prowl had a feeling that was the intent to hide something more sinister.

"Wow," Crystal said lowly as she squinted through the window. "So what do you want to do?"

Prowl took a moment to consider his options.

"I cannot take you in there and there is no other place I can leave you. You will have to remain here outside."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Crystal asked. "Haven't you seen the movies? Any time the girl gets left alone outside she is always found by the bad guys and used as a hostage at some critical point in the battle. I don't know about you Prowl, but I say no thanks to all of that."

There was chuckling from a different male voice over the radio.

"Looks like she's got it all figured out, Prowl."

Crystal swung her head to look out Prowl's side window so fast she hit her forehead on the glass.

"Ouch. I knew there was someone out there." She rubbed her forehead

There was a rumble of another engine next to them. In the moonlight, if she turned her head just so, she could see a vague car-like shape momentarily shimmer.

"That would be Mirage," Prowl said. "Our base has been on high alert lately. Autobots can only leave the base in groups of two or more."

"So who are these guys? What do they want from you?"

"Looks like we'll find out soon enough," Mirage answered her.

"I am relaying the coordinates to the base," Prowl said. "It appears there is no choice but to take you with us, Crystal. But you will do _exactly_ what I say at all times, is that clear? I have seen the movies, too, and you will not wander off, you will not touch anything. You will never take anything into your own hands. You will not leave my side for _any_ reason unless I specifically tell you, understand?"

"Prowl," Crystal said, impressed, "I like this side of you."

Mirage chuckled. But Prowl's silence radiated that wasn't the response he was looking for.

“No, I understand," Crystal insisted in a serious voice. "I'm sorry you guys got stuck with me. I'll do everything I can to stay safe and stay out of your way. We're doing this for Wheeljack, he's what's most important right now. I don't want anything to happen to him either."

"Affirmative," Prowl confirmed. "Mirage, stay behind us and stay cloaked."

"Roger that, Prowl. I'll stay on your tailpipe."

Satisfied, Prowl drove out across the empty, flat plane toward the single structure. Swift and silent, headlights off and, as Crystal glanced out the back window, it seemed he was also doing his best not to kick up any dust.

The same with the invisible car behind him. She had never seen this Autobot Mirage before. All she had was a voice for now, but he definitely made her curious. Not just about himself but about what other Autobots were out there and what they could do. Maybe if she could brave this, she could find enough courage to face the hidden unknown of the massive Autobot base.

But one base at a time. Prowl slowed down in front of the building. Only a dim bulb shined over the open hanger door. Prowl indicated for Crystal to get out before transforming into his robot mode. Given proper notice, Crystal wasn't as startled by it as she had been the first time she saw a full sized Autobot transform. But she had to admit, it was still quite a sight. Prowl still appeared the way she remembered him, but at this size, he looked almost menacing.

He paused at the door and a frown covered his face plate. "I'm not getting a return signal from the base. I don't know if they received my message."

"Signal interference?" Mirage's disembodied voice suggested. "At the very least, we know they've got Wheeljack's last transmission. They should be sending backup anyway. Can't turn back now."

Still frowning, Prowl nodded. He pointed his blaster, a mean and intricate looking device, toward the hanger opening. His blue optics scanned the depths of the darkness. It seemed not to lead in, but turn into a metal shaft angling downward beneath the ground. There didn't appear to be a single light source below. Prowl could activate his night vision, but that didn't help the human clinging to the back of his leg so she could stay by his side like she promised.

Crystal herself saw the problem with this arrangement. Sticking this close to a being this size was a deadly accident waiting to happen if Prowl suddenly stumbled backward. But she could barely make him out as it was. If Prowl didn't have as much white paint as he did, she wouldn't be able to see him at all.

The invisible one just made it worse. What if something startled him and he accidentally stepped on her? Crystal wouldn't even be able to see it coming. She assumed she would be able to sense the large robot, but she couldn't tell where he was at all.

For lack of any other safety alternative, Prowl turned on his headlights, but kept them as dim as possible. Now Crystal didn't have to cling to him or worry about running into anything. She stepped back to look up at Prowl and he gazed down at her.

Crystal suddenly snorted and turned away, trying to stifle her laughter.

"What?" Prowl hissed.

"I'm sorry," Crystal tried to choke back the noise she was making. "I just never realized. You--your headlights on your chest– they totally look like-"

"What? What are you laughing at?" Prowl demanded, clearly not getting it.

A second pair of headlights flipped on at the bottom of the ramp, bright and searing. A vehicle engine roared from the source.

Prowl glanced down in worry, but Crystal was already gone. She pressed herself flat against the wall, trying her best not to be noticed. Prowl hoped she hadn't.

The engine down below revved and tires squealed as the owner of the bright headlights tore up toward him. Prowl couldn’t say anything to Crystal or Mirage. He couldn't chance giving either of them away if they hadn't been noticed already. Right now he was the main target and he had to lead the threat away.

Prowl turned and ran back up the ramp, transforming into car mode as he raced out under the night sky. The other vehicle was right on his tail. Crystal only caught a glance of it. It looked like some kind of off road vehicle, like a jeep. The vehicles sped away and the ramp was plunged into pitch blackness. Crystal hurried further inside, she knew a distraction when she saw one. That meant there was something going on down there.

Further down, it was completely pitch black and she had no choice but to stop. She pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open to give herself some light. Even then, she couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of her.

"Mirage?" she whispered in the darkness. When she got no response, she tried a little louder. “Hello?”

"I'm here," a deep, metallic voice responded.

It was closer than Crystal thought it would be and it made her jump. It sounded as if the Autobot were crouched right next to her.

"Where are you?"

"Stretch your arm to the right. Now take one step."

Crystal did so and her hand pressed against something flat. By the light of her phone, if she turned it a certain way, she could faintly make out a corner here and there of his silhouette. Even more of a marvel, her hand up to the wrist was invisible.

"So much for not taking things into your own hands," Mirage commented to her. His voice was low and calm as if he was used to existing in silence.

"Prowl left _us_ ," Crystal insisted. "And we're doing what he said to do. I said the most important thing is to help Wheeljack and he agreed."

"So he did," Mirage replied, amused.

"I'll still let you take care of the big stuff, don't worry," Crystal assured him. She gave a thoughtful pause. "That other vehicle, was that a Decepticon?"

"I'm afraid not," Mirage's voice was laced with regret and worry. "That was one of our own. Someone has been, we think, brain washing or controlling Decepticons as of lately. Very recently they started collecting Autobots, too. Hound was taken a few days ago. At least we know where he is now. Prowl will take care of him."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Crystal confirmed. "Prowl always knows what to do."

Mirage took a moment to be impressed with Crystal's faith in his commander's ability.

"So how many 'brain washed' Decepticons are there supposed to be?" Crystal then asked. "What if they gang up on Prowl out there?"

"Well, that might be a bit more of a challenge, then."

Crystal glanced towards the exit. "Maybe you should go help him."

On that cue, heavy metal doors fell down on either side of the shaft, locking them in. From the ceiling, a strange wet mist sprayed over them. Crystal wrinkled her nose at the thick smell and backed away.

A black light flicked on and the mist took on an illuminated green hue.

 _It's paint,_ Crystal thought as she inspected the flecks on her arm.

The reflective paint settled over Mirage's exterior, revealing his form to the light.

"Ah, there you are," came a cultured, accented voice over a speaker.

A large, metal claw snaked out of the wall and grabbed Mirage around the neck from behind. The glowing green Autobot struggled as he was dragged backwards by the neck and held against the wall.

* * *

 

 

Dr. Kraus smiled in satisfaction at the captured paint-covered Autobot on his screen.

"I'm definitely quite glad we prepared for that one or else he may have ruined it all. Surprising what simple things can thwart even that kind of technology. Not to bad mouth technology, of course. Remind me to thank our old friend Chumley for all these divine robot-catching gadgets. That is, in the next, what, eight years until he gets out of prison?"

"I wouldn't know," sighed a high, metallic voice dripping with disinterest.

Dr. Kraus turned around to the owner of the voice. "Oh come now, Starscream, these are your enemies! Wouldn't you want to revel just a little as you watch their capture?"

"It appears I have no choice to do anything else but watch," came the sarcastic reply.

Starscream sat on a chair-like apparatus on the middle of the large room. He was forced to sit still at the most upright attention with thick clasps at his forehead, neck, arms, wrists and ankles. Many panels all over his body were either open or missing with wiring spilling out. Other wires from outside sources were wired into his body as well. He looked like a toy someone hadn't finished building yet– a very large toy. Damage done to both his body and his bindings told of Starscream's several attempts to break free.

"Don't be so negative!" Dr Kraus insisted with bravado. "You're witnessing history! Everything is falling right into place!"

"Everything but me, you mean," Starscream smirked.

Dr. Kraus frowned. He hated to be reminded of that.

It wasn't enough that failure was staring him right in the face, the detestable robot had to bring it up every chance he got. The one black eye in an otherwise flawless plan. The scientist only frowned for a moment before plastering his smile back on.

"But even _failures_ can be learned from."

Starscream frowned at his emphasis on the word.

"I am sure," Dr Kraus continued as he went to a computer station and typed in a few commands, “that you still have much to contribute to the world of science in your own way."

Under no will of his own, the cockpit on Starscream's chest flipped forward and the compartment underneath slid open to reveal a pulsating, glowing orb.

Starscream looked horrified. "You wouldn't!" he screeched.

Dr. Kraus stood in the glow, hands clasped behind his back. "The spark of a Cybertronian- either Autobot or Decepticon- is one of the universe's greatest scientific mysteries. I don't think even your own kind fully understand what it is. Imagine what I could learn by taking one apart!"

"So you will gladly trade murder for knowledge then," Starscream accused.

"Murder?" Dr. Kraus laughed. "Certainly not! You've a bit of a flare for the dramatic, don't you? I'm sure when we’re done fiddling with it we'll find a way to start you back up again. For giggles, if not anything else."

"You do realize removing my spark incorrectly will kill me, Doctor."

Dr. Kraus threw back his head and laughed. "Kill you? How absurd! You're only a robot after all."

Starscream growled and tried with renewed vigor to escape his confines.

Dr. Karuse idly excused himself to take care of other matters.

* * *

 

 

There was no place to hide in the large, dark shaft. It was perhaps three cars wide and completely barren. Crystal did her best to stay hidden in the dim light. She brushed off as much of the reflective paint as she could and pressed herself flat against the wall right near the hanger door. She was extremely glad she had been wearing dark colors that day so she wouldn’t be revealed by the black light. It was truly a stroke of great luck.

Across from her, Mirage still remaind pinned by the neck on the opposite wall. He had given up on fighting it. There was no use damaging delicate circuitry for nothing. Both waited silently to see what would happen next.

The heavy metal door slid up and Crystal wasted no time slipping through it the second she could fit and disappeared into the darkness.

Once the door was raised entirely, it revealed a large robot form.

"Wheeljack," Mirage whispered.

"Yes," said the human standing on Wheeljack's open palm. "He is the most recent of my collection."

Wheeljack stepped forward, his light paint job glowed eerily in the black light. His face, while not having many features to begin with, was devoid of any plating. It was now completely composed of wiring and pale optics.

"What did you do to him?" Mirage asked.

"The same thing I will do to you, actually, Dr. Kraus responded. "Now please do not struggle. That clasp on you neck has an electric magnet in it. If I turn it on, it will permanently scramble a large part of your personality circuitry. And I really doubt you want that."

Mirage didn't move, but his expression told he was extremely unhappy about it.

"Open it," Dr. Kraus commanded and Wheeljack's faceless form reached to open Mirage's chest compartment.

Mirage had a disgusted look on his face as Dr. Kraus was brought in close to touch his inner circuitry. He sprayed more of the reflective paint on the Autobot's insides.

"What are you doing?" the Autobot demanded.

"Just turning off your invisibility field and then disabling your motor capabilities," Dr Kraus informed him. "It's all quite painless- not as though you actually can feel pain- so not to worry."

A few buttons and switches flicked and something powered down inside Mirage. His full body became visible and his arms fell lifelessly at his side.

"Okay, bring it in," Dr. Kraus called to the darkness as Wheeljack set him down.

Truck headlights lit up in the darkness and it pulled out with a massive flatbed. With the mindless Wheeljack's help, they turned Mirage's body around and set him flat. Then they drove him away deeper into the underground bunker.

Crystal took note of all of this in the darkness. There was one man who seemed to be in charge and very much knew what he was doing. The rest appeared to be hired hands, perhaps hired muscle as well. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Crystal thought she saw a few of the men wandering around with guns. There wasn't many, but still a significant advantage over just herself.

Her only hope was to get back to Prowl somehow. This certainly wasn't something she could handle on her own.

As if answering her wish, the blocked end of the shaft opened. Crystal looked at it as if it were a godsend. That is, until heavy foot falls of several different pairs of robot feet came down. It was so dark she couldn't see the shapes of those entering. All she could see were three pairs of red optics and one shorter pair of blue. One of the red optics in the lead dragged something behind it and the distinct smell of burning oil filled the air..

As the large, heavy shadows passed her, Crystal could hardly make out their silhouettes with their dark coloring. The thing they were dragging, however, was mostly white and Crystal recognized it as Prowl instantly.

Her heart sank witnessing his capture. He had been her only hope and she had never planned on anything happening to him. Now she was left all alone. The only thing she could do was try to get out and get a safe distance away and then wait for the other Autobots. Hopefully, they were coming. She readied herself to dash up the ramp to the open night air.

Before she could, however, the door slid down with a deafening finality. Crystal frantically pawed at the thick metal. It wouldn't budge. Her heart began to panic in the blackness. She was trapped inside this pitch dark underground bunker and there was no way out.


	4. Illusion of Life

**Ghost in the Machine**

 

**Chapter Three: Illusion of Life**

 

The headlights from the bottom of the shaft nearly blinded Prowl as they shined in his face. He had no choice but to leave Crystal behind. Mirage would protect her while Prowl provided a diversion, keeping the enemy's attention on him.

He transformed and raced out of the shaft, the headlights close behind him. As he burst out into the night, the pale moonlight illuminated a jeep-like silhouette behind him. The missing Hound. What was going on? Why was the kidnapped Autobot now on the side of the enemy? Something was very wrong.

Hound's vehicle mode opened fire, forcing Prowl to pick up speed. While the police car was the faster of the two models, they weren't exactly on paved road. Rocks and brush abused his under carriage while Hound fared much easier over the uneven terrain. He fired again.

Prowl wracked his processor for a plan. This was no Decepticon. Hound must have someone him against his will somehow, it was the only logical explanation. This wasn't the green Autobot's fault. How could Prowl attack a pursuer who was also a victim?

Before the tactician could finish formulating a plan of action, more variables in the form of Decepticons came into the equation. Laser fire peppered the ground in front of him, causing Prowl to swerve and slide in the loose dirt to avoid being hit. He zigzagged to and fro as the jets circled around and around, taking pot shots at him.

Hound stayed right on Prowl's rear bumper. It soon became apparent he was being herded somewhere. It seemed they were doing their best to keep him in the area--even pushing him closer toward the bunker. They didn't want him to leave.

Once he realized this, Prowl knew he would have to alter his course or else he may fall into whatever trap they had planned for him. He quickly swerved out of Hound’s shadow and roared for open land as the seekers turned to have another go at him.

Prowl transformed into robot mode without stopping, sliding along the loose ground, and fired at the sky. The night hid the seekers well, but he was rewarded with a spark in the sky and the sound of a sputtering engine.

The jets all began to descend. Skywarp, Ramjet and Astrotrain gathered in front of Prowl as they landed in robot mode. Hound joined them, all standing before him, faceless. Exactly how Carly had described them several days prior. Even Hound's face had been stolen from him. Prowl couldn't fathom the need for their ghastly mutilation.

The four bots stood in a line before him, eerily still. They soundlessly watched him, cables gleaming in the moonlight like exposed bones.

Prowl took a step back in spite of himself.

Something tingled at his ankle and he glanced down. A metal arm snaked out of the dirt and clamped down around his leg. He felt an odd electronic pulse surge through his body. Slowly, his limbs began to feel numb and lose power.

Panicked, he stumbled as his legs struggled to hold him up. It felt as though energy were seeping out of his entire body. Those standing around him stared mindlessly, watching. Prowl knew he had to get away from there; he didn't stand a chance. Only a few fleeing steps before he lost all power and collapsed on the ground. His last memory was of those faceless forms crowding around him before his optics went dark.

* * *

 

 

Dr. Kraus surveyed the two Autobots that lay before him. There was the blue one, now covered in pink reflective paint, deactivated by Kraus' own hand. Then there was the black and white one that his puppets had recently dragged in.

This one was not deactivated yet. His systems were merely stunned and would recover soon if the doctor didn't work fast. Also, according to his research, this one was of quite high rank, which most likely meant a more advanced fighting ability. He would need to be reprogrammed first.

"That one," Dr. Kraus pointed to Prowl's inert body. "Make sure all his functions are down and let's reprogram him quickly as possible."

His assisting technicians nodded and got right to work. Prowl's chest compartments were opened to make sure his motor relays could not be switched back on. Then the real reprogramming began as they turned their attention to the head and began removing the face panels.

The Cybertronians proved to be unpredictably difficult to control. Prior to what Kraus assumed with the first Decepticon captured, one could not merely reprogram the code and turn them into obedient automatons. Whomever built these machines was a master programmer. The AI program was so well put together that the robot could recognize when foreign orders were introduced into the system. It _knew_ Kraus' orders were not its own primary directive and thus, rejected them.

As such, the scientist had to develop a different method in which to manipulate the alien machines. Instead of working against the prime directive processor, which dictated the robot's decision-making capabilities, his foreign programming had to work with it. The coding slipped into the processor disguised as the robot's own thoughts. So instead of identifying Kraus' code as an invading entity, the metal being believed it had _chosen_ to obey the human of its own volition.

To get to the hardware inside the head, Dr Kraus found it easier to go through the face than to try to remove the thicker armor of the helmet. Removing the face also helped some of his more squeamish assistants to cope with what they were doing.

Most of his techs were college students with more genius than world experience. They were a generation who had grown up with the knowledge of Autobots and Decepticons since their youth. Without the expressive faces, it was easier to see what these beings really were- a collection of wires and metal, programmed to imitate life, instead of actual living beings.

With as many robots that had been reprogrammed now, they were getting used to the procedure and went about it like clockwork. Even with the addition of Autobots, it didn't even slow them down, just as Dr. Kraus predicted.

Everyone knew it had always been "heroic" Autobots on the side of humanity against the brutal and violent Decepticons. But Dr. Kraus never saw good nor evil in them. All he saw was one type of robot programmed to do one thing against another type.

There were different types of Cybertronians, contrary to what Dr. Kraus had originally theorized. At first he had believed down to the core, all Autobots and Decepticons worked the same. But it was not so, per his finding from all the government funded Autobot-based research he had stolen lately.

Fundamentally, down in their most basic core programming, Autobots and Decepticons were different. It was as if they had been built for two completely different purposes. It was intriguing. Even more so, the process to reprogram them was different for the two factions as well. Decepticons proved easier to reprogram. It was as if they were built to take orders. Giving Decepticons new objectives was hardly a challenge. When he captured his first Autobot, however, he found the other faction to be a different matter entirely.

Their processing and decision making capabilities were far more independent and less susceptible to outside suggestion than that of Decepticons. In truth, Kraus probably wouldn't have been able to figure out how to override their strong will without stealing all that Autobot technology from the government when he did. And just in time, too. Autobots were practically knocking at his doors and Dr. Kraus was sure it would only be a matter of time before even more appeared in the area. He had to work fast.

Luckily, even the Autobots were easier to program than the red and white Decepticon seeker bound in the control room. Dr Kraus frowned as he worked. The procedure had no affect on Starscream, no matter what he tried. It was especially confusing and frustrating considering he had an identical model, the black and purple seeker, which easily turned. So why was this one so different? They had all been stumped at finding a completely unfamiliar string of programs in Starscream's core processor that seemed impossible to override.

Kraus' assistants insisted they deactivate Starscream fully while they figured out the mystery, but the scientist wanted to keep Starscream activated to see what he could learn. Most of the seeker's strength and all his weapons were offline. Unfortunately, his mouth was not and Starscream enjoyed reminding Dr. Kraus how much of a failure he was at every opportunity.

* * *

 

 

“Well, this is interesting,” one of the programmers muttered to himself as he worked.

“What?” asked the other next to him, large glasses reflecting the light from the screens.

“Check out this one's code. Are we sure it's an Autobot?”

Glasses raised himself from his chair to glance over the massive black and white body laying before them. The bright red Autobot symbol stood out clear on Prowl's white chest.

“Yeah, looks like. What'd you find?”

“It's just that this one has programming similar to the Decepticons. It's more susceptible to direct orders.”

“So? It just means the different processors are not faction specific. Just use the first way to reprogram this guy.”

“What about this other hardware I picked up?” the first tech asked, pointing to a collection of code on his screen. “I haven't seen this in any of the others. It's an extra program running like... a performance enhancement device of some kind. Like a battle computer or something.”

The second tech adjusted his glasses. “Think it's going to be a problem?”

The first was already typing away. “Nah, we just input the new orders around it instead of trying to tamper with the hardware. That way it will work with the new programming instead of against it.” He paused. “But do you think I should let Kraus know?”

Both glanced up to see their supervisor barking orders at other techs to work faster. Dr. Kraus had been wound tightly since their first difficulty with reprogramming Starscream. He looked fully stressed out at the moment while their team raced the clock. Neither tech wanted to turn his attention and wrath onto them.

“Nah,” Glasses said. “We've already got this covered, he doesn't need to know. We'll write up a report after all this is over.”

The first tech nodded silently as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

* * *

 

 

Within the shadows of the bunker, Crystal crouched in the quietest, darkest place she could find. This was a very foreign situation she had found herself in. She wasn't in the habit of getting herself in situations where she had no control. But things were very much out of control; she was scared and helpless, and she hated it.

Somewhere in this large, underground facility these people had Prowl and Mirage. But what could she do about it? She was just one person trapped in a building full of enemies, many of them armed. Knowing her friends were in trouble and she was helpless to stop it was maddening, heartbreaking and completely unfair. How could she live with herself if she just waited in the dark for rescue? What if rescue never came?

No, she wasn't the type of person to just hide and hope for help. She dug her cell phone out of her pocket. She could call 911 for this, right? Wasn't this an emergency? But what would they do? Send a patrol car out to the innocuous-looking building above ground? Then what? What were the police going to do if these guys sent out Cybertronians against them? She would just be putting people in danger.

But then again, this was Portland. Maybe 911 dispatch could put her directly in touch with the Autobots. Certainly after all these years, there had to be some sort of Decepticon attack related hotline by now.

Before Crystal could make a decision, however, someone called her. She gasped and fiddled with the phone as it began to jingle, quickly answering to silence the device.

“Hello?” she asked in a whisper, heart racing. Hopefully none of the guards had heard that.

"Hey babe," Jazz's laid back response came from the other end. He didn't seem to pick up on the cautiousness of Crystal's tone. "I figured it would be a long shot, but I thought I'd try to call you. You're still with Prowl, right? We lost radio contact with him a while ago. I guess wherever you guys are, they blocked our radio frequencies but not regular cell phone signals."

Crystal fought to keep her voice low despite her panic.

"Jazz! They got him! They got Prowl and Mirage! They brainwashed Wheeljack somehow and they’re trying to do it to the others! You have to come stop these people!"

"Woah, woah, woah. People? You said People? Humans?"

"Yeah, they've got this big underground bunker in the middle of nowhere. They're working on Prowl and Mirage right now. I--there's nothing I can do to stop them, they have armed guards." Crystal swallowed, her voice growing lower as she admitted something she never enjoyed admitting to. "I don't know what to do, Jazz."

There was silence on the other line for a moment.

"Crys, I want you to get out of there. I've already sent a group to Prowl's last known coordinates. Get as far away as you can and wait for them."

"I can't Jazz, I'm locked in. I don't think anyone knows I'm in here yet, but I can't find a way out."

"Then you stay hidden until we can get there. I'll be coming out there myself. Just sit tight Crys, I'll bring the whole cavalry."

"Just hurry," Crystal urged. "I'm okay, but don't let them hurt Pr--"

"Hey, I thought I heard something over here."

Crystal instantly shut off her phone. She huddled further into the darkness and held her breath.

"What did you hear?" a gruff voice asked.

"I don't know, it was really quiet. Like whispering or something."

Silence.

"Probably vermin slipped into the bunker. There's all sort of critters out here. Can't see shit though in this darkness.”

“Better make sure we don't have any pests chewing up the equipment. Hold on, I'll go get the lights.”

“Ha, good luck with that. It's that box clear in the back.”

“Where?”

“Come on, I'll show you.”

Crystal held her breath as the footfalls faded, slowly slinking her way in the opposite direction. She didn't have long before the entire area would be brought to light. She had to find another place to hide before they got back.

* * *

 

 

Jazz frowned at the broken connection. His sensitive hearing picked up a male human voice before the call was cut off. His common sense told him it would not help his friend to call her back. He needed to get down there and get her himself. Not to mention help Prowl and the other Autobots. Hopefully the Autobots would find their missing comrades before they were added to the enemy's numbers.

As Jazz quickly made his way to the Ark's exit, he radioed the current team already on the road. "Sunstreaker, this is Jazz. What is your ETA?"

"We should be reaching their last known coordinates in a few minutes. After that, I'm sure we'll be in a radio dead zone." Then, Sunstreaker had to add, "Of course, we'd be there sooner if we didn't have Ironhide slowing us down."

"Would you like me to let him know you said that?" Jazz shot back with a bit of humor in his voice.

"I'll tell him!" a new voice piped in.

"Slag it, Sideswipe! Stop hacking my frequency! I am trying to have a conversation here!" Sunstreaker shot back.

"Aww... I just wanted to be included..."

"The two of you best watch the road and pay attention," Jazz warned. “We don't know what's out there. First thing to look for, if you see anything that might be jamming our radio signal, take it out. And be ready. If those missing Decepticons are any indication, Hound and Wheeljack will be fighting on their side. If we don't hurry, they may have Mirage and Prowl with them as well."

"I don't worry so much about the others as I do Mirage," Sunstreaker said. "Fighting him won't be easy."

"You think Mirage will be the worst of it?" Jazz wondered. "Well, let's hope you don't have to fight anyone. The rest of us will be right behind you. Jazz out."

By the time he was finished with his conversation, Jazz was outside the Ark where Optimus Prime had rallied the rest of the available Autobots.

"I got a hold of Crystal, she’s trapped inside their base,” Jazz reported. “She said Wheeljack's already been confirmed reprogrammed. They're working fast. They've got Prowl and Mirage, too. I have no idea how long it takes them to do their dirty work, but let's try to beat them before they turn anyone else."

“Right,” Optimus nodded and then turned to his team. “Autobots, tonight we may have to do battle with some of our own. At the very least, try to capture and contain. Do not use force unless absolutely necessary. If you secure an Autobot, radio Ratchet and he’ll see if he can repair them on sight, or at least deactivate them until we can get back to the base.”

"Perfect," Ratchet muttered. “I'm going to be correcting their programming for days. Humans need to keep their greasy digits out of our systems."

"I hope that's the only repairing you'll do," Brawn put in. "I don't want to have to mess up our own guys, but I will if I have to."

"We'll do what we can," Optimus confirmed. "But we _will_ bring back our own in one piece. Autobots, roll out."

* * *

 

 

The lights flipped on, clicking loudly as each set lit up a section of the bunker. A small handful of men inspected the open area. Most of it was bare to make room for large vehicles and robots. The rest were boxes of equipment and parts- both stolen and paid for. The men poked around in the corners and checked the crates for holes.

"I don't see anything, Boss. But I'm sure I heard something moving around," one of the men called.

Dr. Kraus stood in the doorway of his control room, hands clasped behind his back.

"After you've finished searching every corner, set a few rodent traps and then get those lights off. Electricity is money."

"Yes, Boss."

Dr. Kraus turned and stepped back into his control room. Starscream's seated form loomed above him, regal as the Lincoln memorial. The human walked past like it was nothing more than a large piece of large furniture, stopping before a set of cramped screens and curious panels filled with nobs and buttons.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I do believe the Autobots won't let you get away with this, Doctor," Starscream said conversationally. His head was still strapped in place, forced to only swivel his optics downward to view the human. "You may have stayed under Megatron's radar, but the Autobots don't think as he does. Megatron may not suspect your weak, pathetic kind is capable of such a thing. But the Autobots look to humans as equals. I'm sure they've already fingered human meddling and they're coming for you."

Kraus turned and sneered at the seeker. "That may be, but I have nothing to fear from the Autobots. Not a single one of them will deliberately harm any of my men or myself. It's the way they are programmed. Just as I already knew it would take your Megatron weeks to figure out what was going on. He is programmed to think a certain way. Everything not of his kind is beneath him and not given his consideration. That's the way he is made."

"Are you sure it's not simply the way he chooses to think of you?" Starscream prodded.

The human scientist shook his head. "He can't help but think otherwise. All of you run like clockwork. All it takes is a bit of time to figure out your programming and I can guess your every move."

Starscream harrumphed. "So even after all our conversations, Doctor, you still see us as nothing more than preprogrammed machines."

Dr. Kraus smirked. "Oh, whomever made you was very good, to be sure. This AI technology is years, maybe centuries, away from our own. You can emotionally respond to any conversation. You have character flaws: you're annoying, cowardly, sarcastic, traitorous. You've even been programmed with a fear of death.

"The way you function is so perfect, even you yourself, the creation, believe you are alive. Every part of you was designed to give the illusion of life from your expressive faces to your beating sparks.” Dr. Kraus lowered his voice with a knowing smile. “But make no mistake, someone out there created you. You didn't come into existence out of nowhere. You are someone's grand design, their product. And you are acting exactly how they made you to act. No more, no less."

"Interesting theory," Starscream said in a patronizing tone, “but let me ask you this. If we were created by another being, then where are our creators now? Where are the scientists who built and programmed us? If they did, indeed, exist at one point, they are definitely gone now. And why? Could it be we made it so?

"Did we rid ourselves of those who made us, Doctor? Did we chase them off? Did we kill them? How strange would it be for us to do that. For to turn on our creators certainly wouldn't be something we were programmed to do, now would it, Doctor?"

Dr Kraus looked concerned and then thoughtful. Then he shook his head. "You definitely are a work of art. Every bit about you is made to trick others into believing that you're really alive. But the absolute definition of sentience is the ability to become more than what your creator made you to be; to be what _you_ desire. And, I'm afraid my dear Starscream, you just don't have that ability."

An urgent beeping sounded behind Dr. Kraus as the screen flashed red. He examined the information and then turned on his speaker so he could address all employees in the bunker.

“Attention all personnel. We have four Autobots entering the area. Everyone to your stations. These Autobots will need to be captured and processed as quickly as possible. I’m sure there will be more on the way. Programming team, get those two Autobots finished and out in the field as soon as possible.”

No sooner had Dr. Kraus finished giving orders, then he turned and hurried out of the room to supervise personally.

The door slid shut after him, leaving Starscream to sit in silence. The seeker still couldn't move, but something shuffled around from behind his calf. The young human woman poked her head out and glanced about the room before sliding out all the way, eyes warily on the door.

“You have all the ear marks of a self-righteous Autobot-lover,” Starscream said in a neutral tone.

Crystal jumped at being addressed, but then turned and looked up. She still couldn’t believe she was stuck in a room with a Decepticon. Even more so, that he had allowed her to hide behind him.

“Then why didn’t you tell that guy I was here?” she asked.

Starscream regarded her calmly. If he remembered her at all from their previous encounter several months ago, it didn’t show. “Because even the most unlikely has the potential for usefulness. At the time, you and I have a common enemy.”

Crystal glanced at the door where Dr. Kraus had exited. It was the only way in or out of that room. She was trapped in there, especially with the whole bunker on high alert.

“He doesn't seem to be a big fan of either faction,” she said quietly.

“The doctor's theories are unsound, but he protects them jealously,” Starscream replied in a flat voice. He tested the restraints on his wrists, but they still held him tightly.

She looked up at the hulking form, daring to rest her gaze on Starscream's face. Those red optics, looking down on her like she didn't mean a thing. They still haunted her dreams from time to time. But she returned the gaze bravely.

“So why hasn't he reprogrammed you like he has the others?”

Starscream smirked cryptically. “The doctor and I have ... professional differences.”

That just made Crystal regard him with suspicion. That didn’t explain anything.

“I believe it would be prudent,” Scarscream continued, “if we united against our common foe to get out of here.”

The girl folded her arms, leaning against the computer console. “What’s in this for me? I can leave this room, you can’t.”

“Typical,” Starscream huffed, “just like a human to try to make themselves sound more important than they are.”

“You’re not winning an points with me here,” Crystal warned.

“Yes well, I’m sure if you felt safe enough to leave this place, you would have done so already,” Starscream accused and Crystal knew he had her there. “I think I have earned at least the benefit of a doubt by hiding you, so let’s see if we can’t come to some sort of arrangement.”

* * *

 

 

“There’s not a whole lot out there,” Trailbreaker said as he peered over the rocks. His optic band scanned for anything that may give them more information on what they were up against. “It’s just a lot of flat, open ground out there. I see a small building and I certainly wouldn’t be surprised if that were only the tip of a large, underground structure. But other than that, we’re too close to the dead zone to pick up anything on our scanners.”

Sunstreaker frowned where he crouched behind a large boulder. All his scanners were turning up a big fat zero as well.“That means we’re gonna be totally flying blind. I don’t like it.”

“Sunny, adventure!” Sideswipe urged, tweaking his brother’s foot. He was on his hands and knees, staying hidden as well. “Jump into the unknown! A new surprise at every turn!”

“Yeah, yeah, adventure,” Sunstreaker agreed reluctantly. “So how about it, chief?”

The yellow lamborghini looked to Ironhide who frowned at the landscape.

“Ah don’t like it, but we don’t have a choice. We gotta go out there and force them to make a move so we can see what we’re up against. Hopefully, the others will be here soon if this hornet’s nest ends up being bigger than we can handle.”

“Only one way to find out,” Sideswipe announced as he hurdled the boulder. “Come on Sunny, let’s go stir up some dust.”

Sunstreaker reluctantly trudged after him. “This dirt is going to get all up in my undercarriage. I’m going to need a steam cleaning when this is over.”

“So get it when it’s over,” Sideswipe retorted as he transformed. “But for now, let’s play!”

The two lamborghinis raced over the open plain. Engines screaming, dust billowing, lights bright, they were obviously looking to get some attention. The second they were in the open their personal radios ceased to work. The brothers had to yell at each other over their engines to communicate.

“Hey Sideswipe, do you see those tire tracks?”

“Sure do. I would guess Prowl and Hound. Looks like they were chasing each other around.”

“Yeah, but where are they now?” Sunstreaker wondered.

“Maybe we should go bang on the front door and ask.”

The twin sport cars slid on the loose ground as they spun around sharply and raced for the small building in the middle. Outside, a single light flickered in front of the hanger. But as they approached, they could see the hanger door begin to slide up.

From their hiding place, Ironhide and Trailbreaker watched the scene unfold.

“Here we go,” Ironhide muttered, his body tense. “Let’s see what you got.”

The door opened all the way and the two lamborghinis slid to opposite sides as the jet forms of Skywarp, Ramjet, and Astrotrain thundered out inches from their hoods. No sooner had the seekers buzzed them, then the vehicle forms of Hound and Wheeljack unleashed their arsenal and began to fire.

“Slag! Slagslagslagslag!” Sunstreaker chanted as he peeled out, trying to get away. “How about a little help here?”

Trailbreaker smirked as he climbed out from their hiding place. “Looks like the young ones want some assistance. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

Ironhide frowned. None of his radio transmissions seemed to be getting back to the main convoy.

“Ah’ve showed them a thousand times. Some kids just don’t learn!”

Trailbreaker transformed into vehicle mode. “One more time. Eventually, something will stick.”

Meanwhile, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker dodged laser fire left and right. Both from the reprogrammed Autbots behind them and the Decepticons flying above. They were obviously overpowered when Ironhide and Trailbreaker barreled into Wheeljack and Hound, forcing them away from the Lamborghini brothers.

“Woo hoo!” Sideswipe cheered. “I guess it’s up to us to take down those Decepticons. You up for some jet judo, bro?”

“You do realize judo is the art of throwing bodies? In which it’s practically impossible to do in the air?”

“Practice makes perfect, Sun. Let’s do it!”

The duo circled around and aimed for a rise in the ground to use as a ramp, to which they launched themselves into the air.

It was only fitting, since it was Sideswipe’s idea, that he would land on Skywarp.

“Uh oh,” was all the red Autobot had time to say as he was zipped through the air.

At the same time, Ironhide and Trailbreaker had paired off against their reprogrammed comrades. Trailbreaker quickly discovered he was no match for Wheeljack’s speed while Ironhide was finding himself on the receiving end of Hound’s cannon. With neither willing to take drastic measures against their friends, the Autobots were at a loss at what to do.

Ironhide’s tire blew out as Hound hit it, nearly careening into Trailbreaker. The two transformed into bot mode and crouched behind Trailbreaker’s force field. Wheeljack and Hound, in robot mode, fired on them mercilessly.

“Ah think we need a new strategy,” Ironhide grunted. “This isn’t working. How are we supposed ta take these guy out without scrapping them?”

Trailbreaker braced against the attack, holding the energy shield steady. “I don’t know, Ironhide. It sounds cruel, but we may have to do just that to save them from doing something _they'll_ regret.”

Ironhide frowned. He didn’t like it one bit, but they couldn’t hide behind that force-field forever. Something just might have to be done.

Above them, Sideswipe was flipped back and forth at neck-breaking speed. He would have the luck to get Skywarp. Even brainwashed, nothing matched this seeker when it came to sharp turns and throwing off unwanted Autobots. Sideswipe thought his fingers might snap off as Skywarp lurched, twisted and warped them both this way and that. There certainly was no opportunity for any judo. It was all Sideswipe could do just to hold on.

Finally, he couldn’t even do that as his grip slipped and Sideswipe was sent pinwheeling into open air. He activated his rocket pack to control his his decent. However, that still didn’t prevent him from stumbling as he hit the ground and plowed face first in the dirt with a groan. He hoped his brother was doing better than he was.

Sideswipe sat up and was a bit perturbed to find something had cracked his optics. Sifting his hand through the dirt, Sideswipe searched for the culprit that damaged him. What he found was a bent metal antenna.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he grinned and began to dig.

His efforts were rewarded when he discovered that it seemed to be active and stretched down several feet. Sideswipe hummed to himself as he pulled out a small device and turned it on. Above him, Sunstreaker’s voice was screaming from somewhere in the sky that his brother needed to get the slag back up there and help him.

But Sideswipe paid the voice no mind. He clipped the device to the antenna. It beeped shrilly until the wire began to heat up and start smoking. Sideswipe grinned as he was immediately able to use his radio again.

“Sideswipe to Optimus Prime. I nixed the jamming frequency. All radio signals are up and running.”

“Good work Sideswipe. The rest of us are almost there What’s the status?”

At that question, Sunstreaker came screaming out of the sky to do a similar face plant in the ground next to his brother. Several yards away, a smoking Ramjet dove nose first into the dirt as well.

“We’re down one seeker,” Sideswipe reported cheerily as he grabbed his brother’s back and pulled him up into sitting position. “Ironhide and Trailbreaker were trying to keep Hound and Wheeljack busy. But we haven’t seen Mirage or-”

Bright lights flashed on the twins and they moved to cover their optics from the glare. They scrambled to their feet as the owner of the lights revved his engine.

“Uh, I think we found Prowl,” Sideswipe said as the police car in front of him transformed into robot mode.

Prowl’s face panels had been stripped like all the others, leaving his wiring exposed and his optics looking dead. Seeing Prowl like that gave Sideswipe the chills.

“What is Prowl doing?” Optimus asked over the radio.

“He’s just kind of standing there, watching us.”

All of a sudden, Jazz’s voice screeched over the radio. “Lethal force is authorized against Prowl! Repeat, lethal force is authorized!”

The twins just gawked stupidly at their communicators.

“What are you talking about?” Sunstreaker demanded. “It’s just Pr-“

Jazz was not listening. The urgency in his voice chilled their processors.

“Sideswipe! Sunstreaker! Get out of there!”

 

 

 


	5. Other Voices

**Ghost in the Machine**

**Chapter Four: Other Voices**

 

The twins stared dumbly at their radio.

“What do you supposed he means by that?" Sunstreaker demanded, turning up his nose at Jazz's order.

"I dunno. I don't think Jazz has much confidence in us," Sideswipe responded. "I mean look at him, he's just standing there. All Prowl does all day is sit on his aft and order us to do all the fighting. We're bigger than him, the two of us can take him.”

Sunstreaker got an evil grin. "Maybe now would be a good time for us to get paybacks for all the things he's busted us for in the past."

"Yeah," Sideswipe agreed, body tensing in excitement. "We're just doing it for his own good, right? Can't have poor Prowlie running around as some human's slave. He'll thanks us for this in the long run."

He looked to his brother for agreement.

Sunstreaker grinned wickedly. "Let's get him."

Ignoring Jazz's continual demand for their response, the twins lurched toward the black and white Autobot. Prowl had not moved the entire time nor was he making any attempt to defend or attack as the brothers charged him.

As soon as he was in range, Sunstreaker threw a punch. It connected solidly with Prowl's open palm and before he knew it, Sunstreaker was face down on the ground.

Sideswipe stopped his attack, stunned by Prowl's quick reaction. Sunstreaker was already down and it had all been a blur. Prowl now stared at him and Sideswipe felt his indignation boiling.

"Hey! You can't do that to my brother!"

Sideswipe lunged. Prowl seemed to move as effortlessly as water over rocks. In one smooth motion, Sideswipe’s arm was behind his back as he flipped into the air, over Prowl's head and landed back to back on top his brother. Both grunted as they collided, stunned at how quickly the tables had turned.

Prowl stood over them and, this time, Sideswipe finally got the warning bells of common sense ringing in his central processor.

"Sunny! Scatter!"

The brothers scrambled away as Prowl attacked again. They ran several paces before turning to look back. Prowl was still standing there, just watching them.

"It's like he's taunting us!" Sunstreaker snarled. "Slagger thinks he's better than us!"

"Well he did kind of just kick both our cans," Sideswipe offered.

Sunstreaker glared at his opponent. "No, he can't be _that_ good. There's no way he can take both of us out at once. We attack together.”

Sideswipe nodded. "I'm with you, bro."

They transformed into vehicle mode. The twin Lamborghinis revved their engines. Prowl waited.

"Go," Sunstreaker ordered.

They both peeled out, racing for the faceless Autobot. They meant to transform right before passing their opponent to attack him simultaneously, but Prowl was ready. He ran forward, throwing off the twins' timing. Sunstreaker was in the midst of transforming when Prowl shoved his hand right through the yellow sports car's side window. Glass shattered and frames were bent as the hooked Sunstreaker had his own momentum used against him. Prowl effortlessly spun him in a full arc, knocking him nose first into a partially transformed Sideswipe. The two fell into a deformed pile.

"Sun!” Sideswipe gasped with realization of their mistake. "This is still Prowl! He knows all our moves!"

The second Sideswipe said those words, he felt Prowl's hand punch through his chest with deadly precision.

* * *

 

 

"No! No, no, no, no!" Dr. Kraus barked as he and his assisting technicians watched Prowl's actions on the monitor. "I need those two Autobots functioning! I can't reprogram totaled robots! Get that white one to stop attacking them!"

"I can't sir!" The young tech typed at the keyboard frantically. "He's overriding part of the commands. It's as if he's choosing which orders to follow. The prime directive is the same, but he's carrying it out the way _he_ wants to!"

"Impossible!" Dr. Kraus insisted. "It's just a machine! You programmed it wrong!"

The two techs that had reprogrammed Prowl glanced at each other. Maybe they should have told Kraus about their findings sooner.

“There was an extra computer running inside that Autobot, sir. It was something we hadn't seen before in the others,” the tech with the glasses admitted.

“What?!” Kraus bellowed, face growing red with anger. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Well, you were very busy, sir, and the Autobot still accepted the regular reprogramming sequence as normal. We didn't think it would affect anything.”

Kraus sucked in a few breaths to calm himself. This was no time to panic. He had to stay smart about this or everything would fall apart. "Tell that bot to return. We will take it offline until we can fix it."

"I'll try, sir."

"Sir, what about the other two Autobots?" another tech called. "We've got them cornered, but we're not gaining any ground with them hiding under that force-field. Our bots can't break through."

"Get the planes to help them out. We need to get those two deactivated before the others come."

"Been on it, sir," Astrotrain's tech called. "It's not moving."

"Keep at it," Dr. Kraus insisted. "Force-fields take power. That robot can't hold it forever."

"Sir?" called the stressed tech at Prowl's controls. "The white robot is starting to do something else..."

* * *

 

 

Prowl had finished with the twins. It didn't take long. All he needed were the two to be non-functional and completely out of the game. There was no need for brutal acts of violence for this. Once the twins were down, all it took was a precise punch to the chest and removal of the motor relay component to leave the brothers unable to move their arms and legs.

These actions were not decided by the confused programmer feeding Prowl suggestions. The way the reprogramming process worked was that the robot thought the outside suggestions were their own desires. The bot himself was made to believe he was doing what he truly wanted and not something someone else was telling them to do.

With Prowl, he received his prime directive: that the unprogrammed Autobots were enemies and needed to be taken out quickly. He fully believed those were the actions he wanted to take. Everything else afterward, however, Prowl didn't agree to. He kept having an idea that he should not damage them so they could be reprogrammed immediately. But Prowl always considered every possible option before acting. That thought was merely one of many ways to handle the situation.

Programmed enemies always had the potential for betrayal if it was not done correctly. It didn't seem logical to rely on a hasty procedure during the heat of battle. This type of thing demanded proper time and attention to detail. No, he wouldn't risk a sloppy hack job in which an ally would suddenly turn on him during an opportune point of the battle.

His other idea was better. Disable the enemies with minimal damage, but render them completely useless. When others come and see the bodies, then intimidation will be on his side. They would see his victory and be hesitant to attack. Then he would swoop in full force while they hesitated. When all had fallen, only then would he take the bodies in to be assimilated.

That was the preferred plan of action. No matter how many times the other suggestion of reprogramming the bodies now flipped through this thoughts, he ignored it.

Acting upon his new plan, Prowl drove over to where all the others were attacking Trailbreaker's force-field.

Trailbreaker saw Prowl coming.

"Great, here comes another one."

"How're ya holding up?" Ironhide asked. "Can ya wait until the others get here?"

"I might last as long as they keep using this generic ammo on us," Trailbreaker replied. "Got at least 15 minutes of power left. Prime should be here by then. We just need to hold out."

Prowl walked up and looked the situation over. He only glanced at the two trapped Autobots for a second before gazing skyward and sending a signal to Skywarp. The seeker stopped firing on them immediately.

Ironhide and Trailbreaker peered through the force-field veil in curiosity as all firing on them ceased.

"I don't like the look of that at--"

Ironhide was cut off as Skywarp suddenly materialized within the force field- still in jet mode and going several hundred miles an hour. The seeker tore through the two Autobots, causing Trailbreaker to lose concentration and drop his energy field from surprise.

The remaining two Autobots fell backwards from the attack, damaged, while Prowl and Wheeljack quickly removed their motor relays from their chests. Yes, this idea was the best for battle. This choice won them their victory.

* * *

 

 

Dr. Kraus was fit to pull his own hair out. Why were they all obeying that Autobot?! What was going on? Then, like lightning to the brain, it all made sense. The appearance of having complete control over these robots had been an illusion. He wasn't really controlling them, merely making them believe his suggestions were their own.

His mistake had been to put a high ranking officer among his numbers. Autobot or Decepticon, both were soldiers and did what a higher ranking officer told them to do, whether they wanted to do it or not. The only question remained was why _that_ Autobot was not doing what they told it to do?

They didn't know that Prowl was used to voices in his head. They were always there, offering a myriad of different ideas and plans. He would pick and choose the most prudent course of action. Kraus' orders were merely one voice among many fighting for attention within Prowl's thoughts.

If Kraus had a higher ranking soldier than Prowl among his numbers, the problem would have solved itself. Prowl was a solder, too, and as such, took orders above his own. But as he didn't see anyone else ranking higher than him, Prowl took control and the others followed.

"What do you want us to do, sir?" asked one of the programming team as he approached. “We finished with the blue one. He’s ready to go out.”

Kraus watched the screen and breathed out loudly from his nose.

"They're still fighting on our side. They'll still attack the other Autobots when they come. Send that new one out. We'll play the rest by ear." He looked down at the tech on Prowl's control. "Just keep me informed of what that white one is doing at all times."

"Yes, sir!" the tech responded. He looked a bit alarmed that they were still going forward, but turned back to the screen to do his job.

Dr. Kraus sighed again and turned to go back into his main control room. Maybe something in his research notes could help him figure out what was going on. Maybe there was still time to fix it before reinforcements arrived.

He never made it before the entire wall exploded. Rubble flew in all directions, people screamed as they lurched to safety. A great, blue hand snatched Kraus from the ground. Behind the carnage, the signal sounded new arrivals to the area.

* * *

 

 

The cavalry had arrived. With Jazz and Optimus Prime in the lead, the group appeared from the woods. They arranged themselves out of sight in the tree line to look down at the battle zone. Autobots and Decepticons alike were milling about the open area. The lifeless bodies of the first team were clearly laying about. Ironhide and Trailbreaker were already being dragged toward the underground bunker.

Optimus turned to his team of remaining Autobots: Ratchet, Brawn, Huffer, Windcharger, Bluestreak, and Tracks.

"Autobots, we will need to move quickly and carefully. Remove the injured and detain our comrades. Try to immobilize. Inflict only as much damage as you have to."

"What about the Decepticons?" Huffer piped up. "Do we just treat them like normal or..?"

"I only see two of them," Jazz relayed as he scanned the area. "Ramjet is down for the count. No sign of Starscream on the ground or in the sky."

"Do what you have to do,"Optimus answered. "Take them out, but do not shoot to kill. This incident goes above factions. We'll let Megatron sort out his own when this is over.

"Brawn, cover Ratchet as he checks the wounded. See if you can get any of them back up for battle."

"Depends on their status, but I'll try," Ratchet nodded.

"They don't look in too bad of shape, aside from being out for the count," Jazz said. "Prowl needs them functioning for something."

"You mean whomever is controlling Prowl needs them functioning," Brawn clarified.

"What I mean is what I said," Jazz shot back.

Bluestreak just looked worriedly toward the open area. He didn't like the situation at all.

"Autobots," Optimus ordered. "Follow me."

They ran on foot until they had ground smooth enough to drive.

Prowl paused from overseeing the operation to watch the group of Autobots racing his way. He radioed those working under him. They all stopped what they were doing and turned to attack under Prowl's order.

* * *

 

 

Technical assistants and security personnel alike scrambled to get out of the way as Starscream forced himself through the wall and into the larger part of the hanger. Several men stopped to shoot him with their rifles. The bullets were little more than an annoyance to the Decepticon and he hardly took notice as he pulled his other leg out and stood to his full size over the startled humans.

“Puny humans,” he smirked, one hand still holding his prize, “your weapons are no match for-” He paused as he felt a horrible stinging sensation in his leg, causing him to suddenly lose power.

He glanced down in anger to see one of the techs running away, a sizzling disk left on his shin. The Decepticon could feel that horrible contraption just sucking the life out of him at alarming speed. It made him tired and furious at the same time and he fought it with all his strength.

“Get him! Shoot him!” Dr Kraus ordered from Starscream's loosening grip.

No, it couldn't end like this. Starscream had not had his revenge. A few minutes more and it would be the end. The humans would shackle him up again, or worse. He couldn't lose now.

A dash of red hair caught his optic as Crystal attacked the disk on his leg, trying to yank it off. The contraption spat energy and scorched her hands when she touched it. But she needed this Decepticon to get her out of there. Gritting her teeth, she pulled with all her might. The electricity burned and made her muscles spasm, but she managed to tear it off.

Starscream felt his power come back instantly. At his feet, other humans had more of the devices in their hands. He snarled in anger as he fired a constant heavy beam from his null ray at them. Humans ran everywhere as the beam tore up the floor at their feet and cut through their equipment. Panels and monitors melted and exploded in its wake. Within a mere matter of seconds, the entire operation center was scrapped and burning beyond repair.

Starscream smirked at his handy work. That had felt so good. Now his captives were either wounded on the ground or running for their lives. Dr. Kraus had managed to escape while he was weak and was nowhere to be seen. But Starscream still felt thoroughly vindicated and took a moment to revel in it.

However, there was one thing he almost forgot. The human woman who helped him escape. There would certainly be Autobots running around outside. He could use her has a hostage. He looked behind him where the human had shadowed him for safety during the attack. She was gone. Starscream glanced all around. The human was nowhere to be found.

* * *

 

 

As soon as Starscream let lose on the equipment, Crystal had run. She remembered what Jazz had told her. Scarscream double-crossed everyone. Crystal had no doubt the moment the Decepticon had finished exacting his revenge on his captors he would turn on her. She certainly wasn't going to stick around for that. Jazz said he was coming for her and she was going to find him.

She ran up the ramp into the open night air as fast as her legs would carry her. Others were fleeing as well, but none of them noticed her in the panic. Once outside, Crystal found that it wasn’t as pitch dark as it had been before. As the staff evacuated, someone had flipped on several flood lights which lit up the area. The massive robots battling outside were lit up like a grand fight area. .

Crystal found herself standing next to a robotic form. It was black and white, and faceless with his gun pointed right at her. Crystal froze.

* * *

 

 

The battle was fierce. Prowl knew the strengths and weaknesses of the Autobots he was fighting and ordered his own team accordingly. Unfortunately, Jazz and Optimus Prime were familiar with Prowl's strategies as well. It made for slow movement on both sides.

Optimus Prime's team hit hard right off the bat and gained the ground where Ironhide and Trailbraker's bodies lay. Brawn provided cover fire for Ratchet as the medic looked the two bodies over.

"They took out the motor relays," Ratchet observed as he peered into Trailbreaker's chest cavity. "Without them, there’s nothing getting movement signals from the main processor to their limbs. This is definitely Prowl's work. We've had several conversations on the fastest way to take out an enemy with the least amount of damage and energy spent."

"Fascinatin', Doc," Brawn grouched as he tried to get a good shot at Skywarp, "but can you get them back online?"

"Possibly. If I can find those missing components and if they're not too damaged."

A blue light emanated from Ratchet's chest as he scanned the ground for mechanical parts.

"Ah, there's one."

Right as he reached for it, invisible tires sped past, crushing and shattering the component beyond recognition.

"What the-?" Ratchet demanded as he watched the machinery crumble before his eyes.

Phantom tire tracks and the sound of a growling engine sped off toward the line of Autobots led by Optimus Prime. All called out in surprise as a solid force raced for their legs, knocking them to the ground one by one.

"I found Mirage," Bluestreak sing-songed as he raised his hand.

"Now comes the hard part," Tracks said as he got up, “finding him again." The blue Corvette lined up the dust trail from the speeding invisible car in his crosshairs and took several shots, hoping to hit the tires. He missed every time.

One shot, however, did hit its mark and Bluestreak grinned proudly at the familiar pop of a ruptured tire. Tracks frowned at his silly grin.

"Get on him! Hold him down!" Optimus ordered.

"On it, Prime," Windcharger called. His magnetic field sought out the invisible Mirage and locked on him. The unseen engine roared in anger as he was lifted into the air. "He's not going anywhere."

"That's one down," Jazz announced.

"Only three Autobots and two Decepticons to go," Optimus nodded.

At this time, several small explosions rumbled from the underground bunker. Prowl, who had been standing right next to the hanger entrance, heard it clearly. Several humans, most of them armed and in uniform, ran out as smoke wafted out.

Prowl took a moment to assess. These humans were not registered under his list of enemies. Were they his allies, then? The little creatures scattered in fear. They were no help at all in this battle. Maybe it would be best to get rid of them. They were an unpredictable variable, one he could not afford to allow to run wild at such a time. It just didn't seem logical.

As Prowl raised his weapon, Crystal ran out of the bunker. She stopped dead in her tracks and stared in horror at the gun aimed at her and then at the gaping exposed mesh of wires where Prowl's face used to be. What had they done to him?

Prowl paused when his optics registered her. She was neither in uniform nor was she armed. But she had been with the others. It didn't seem prudent to spare some and not others. Either they were all his enemies or none of them were.

As Prowl balanced his options over the stunned human woman, a yellow Lamborghini swerved in the way. Sunstreaker arced wide between the two, side drifting right toward Crystal.

"Duck!" he ordered.

Crystal ducked as the car slid toward her, side door open. In an impressive display of finesse and control, the Lamborghini neatly scooped up the human in his passenger seat as he spun and then peeled out, leaving Prowl to wonder what happened.

Crystal sat pressed against the passenger seat, heart beating rapidly as a seat belt locked her in place under its own accord. She couldn't believe that had just happened, but here she was racing away from danger instead of facing the barrel of a massive gun. Her brain went numb as it tried to process how much her life had been threatened within the past few minutes.

"Uh oh," Sunstreaker said as Prowl transformed and started racing after him, “looks like I really pissed off Prowl this time."

Sunstreaker knew, as most Autobots did, that there was very little Prowl hated more than when one of his plans went awry. And Sunstreaker was definitely awry right now.

It was true that Prowl had earlier removed Sunstreaker's motor relay and, despite not being damaged any other way, that should have kept the yellow Autobot out of action for the duration of the battle. What Prowl didn't know was that Sunstreaker still had a second, smaller relay in his body. Its purpose was to help him be more precise in his hand work when he painted and did intricate architecture back on Cybertron. He hadn't done any of that for millions of years, but he always kept the component just in case.

It was lucky he did. The small relay had enough power to get the half transformed Sunstreaker all the way into car mode. Currently, he was stuck in car mode, but he could still drive.

Now, Sunstreaker raced for his life, Prowl hot on his tail lights.

"Stop dinking around and help me, you slaggers!" Sunstreaker called as he drove by Optimus Prime and his team. "I can't transform!"

As they raced by, Jazz saw the human passenger in Sunstreaker's front seat. Crystal's wide eyed expression met his optic bad for the briefest of moments and then she was gone.

"Crys..." Jazz transformed and jetted after the two cars without a second thought.

Optimus Prime kept his attention on the matter at hand. Despite Mirage's earlier efforts, Ratchet found the other discarded motor relay and quickly installed it into Trailbreaker with little trouble. Now Wheeljack and Hound were confined harmlessly inside his force field. That left the two Decepticon planes to deal with.

"Tracks," Optimus ordered, “get in the sky and take out those planes. Everyone else give him cover fire. Ratchet, tend to Mirage. If you can't get him turned back to our side, then shut him down."

"On it, Prime." Ratchet glanced down once at the immobile Ironhide who was still fully functional and aware of everything going on around him. He just couldn't move.

Ratchet tapped Ironhide on his helmet, knowing he could hear him. "Sorry to keep you out of the action old friend. Next time, I'll give you the force field generator and we’ll leave Trailbreaker out."

Ratchet smirked as he got up. He could just imagine what angry retort Ironhide had for him. Mirage was his patient now. Windcharger still had the invisible Autobot in his magnetic field as his engine roared his dissatisfaction with the whole ordeal.

Ratchet knelt on top of Mirage to keep him down and felt his way around the vehicle's invisible hood. He found the hatch he was looking for and flipped it open. Though Mirage's armor was invisible, his inner circuitry was not. Once Ratchet could see what he was doing, he pulled out a small device- a screen with a key pad- and plugged it into Mirage's motherboard.

"How's it look, Ratchet?" Windcharger asked.

"We'll see in a minute." This wasn't his specialty. Ratchet was far better at fixing physical parts than internal programming. Such a task was better left to someone like Perceptor or even Wheeljack. But he would never admit to that out loud. All he could hope was that this human hack job was as basic and primitive as he knew their knowledge of robots to be and that he could fix it quickly.

* * *

 

 

Far away, and moving farther still, Sunstreaker fled from Prowl, both of them trailed by Jazz. The chase was getting up to dangerous speeds and Sunstreaker's human passenger was feeling the effects.

"Too fast. We're definitely going too fast," Crystal panted as she dug her fingernails into the seat.

"Shut up and stop scratching up my interior!" Sunstreaker shot back in a highly agitated voice. “I'm trying to not get us slagged here!"

Prowl was gaining. Sunstreaker didn't think the police car was capable of keeping up with him. But then again, Sunstreaker was trying to find the smoothest path through the bumpy countryside to prevent dings to his paint while Prowl barreled straight on through everything.

"Jazz! Get him off!" Sunstreaker cried over the radio. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up!" And it was the truth. From the earlier hole Prowl punched, a large part of the engine was exposed and dust was clogging up everything. It was just a matter of time before he kicked up something that would really mess up his engine.

"I'm working on it, hold on," Jazz radioed back.

He put on the speed to try to intercept Prowl, but the Datsun was onto him. Prowl sped up, too. His nose moved slightly past Sunstreaker's rear bumper. Then Prowl gave the Lamborghini a very small, but very precise bump just at the right time.

At the speed he was going, one bump was all it took for Sunstreaker to spin out of control. His human passenger gritted her teeth too hard to scream as he fishtailed over the uneven ground before hitting a large bump. That was enough to send them into the air and Sunstreaker flipped brutally nose over tail along the ground. The rocks and dirt ripped him up as he hit it again and again, shattered glass pin-balling around his cab, parts flying everywhere.

Sunstreaker crunched to a stop on his hood, smoking and tires still spinning. Crystal, held upside down by her seat belt, was frozen until she realized the worst was over and she was still in one piece.

She coughed as she looked around. The hold of the seat belt made it feel like someone had punched her in the chest. Blood dripped from her cheek, accompanied with a sharp sting of pain.

"Hey," she managed to rasp at the mangled dashboard, “are you okay?"

The totaled car was silent.

"Are you alive?" Crystal asked in a smaller voice.

No response.

Feeling panic creep over her, she fumbled to get out of her seat belt.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead," she repeated under her breath as she fell free of her restraints and tried to maneuver herself out of the car.

Broken glass cut into her arms and hands as she wriggled out of the bent window frame. Coughing again, she stood up to check on Sunstreaker's upturned and mangled form. It didn’t look good.

"Come on, please be alive," she begged as she slapped her palm on his frame. "Make a noise, anything!"

Blinding lights fell on her and Crystal moved to cover her eyes. Prowl stood over her with his headlights on and this time, it was not funny. She blinked at the robot once thought of as a friend, but now he felt very foreign and deadly to her. Prowl took a step toward her.

Another pair of headlights appeared, followed by a growling Porsche. Jazz drove head first for Prowl, transforming as he lunged for him at top speed. The two robots collided with a deafening clash of metal and hit the ground so hard, Crystal felt it quake under her feet.

Prowl threw Jazz off him, He skidded several feet, heels digging deep trenches in the ground, before standing up. The two robots faced off, their own headlights the only source of light in the wilderness. It gave a shadowed atmosphere to a grave situation.

"Prowl," Jazz tried, “listen to me, man. Those guys did something to you. They messed with your head. You don't want to do this."

Prowl did not respond and only crouched in an attack position. Jazz readied himself. This was a fight he hoped would never come. He had known Prowl for a very long time and had a better idea than most what Prowl was truly capable of. Jazz had no idea if he would win this fight, but he would give it his best shot.

The faceless Autobot was still for several seconds. When it became apparent Jazz wasn't going to make the first move, Prowl lunged to attack. Anticipating the strike, Jazz hopped backwards out of his reach. Physically, he and Prowl were evenly matched. They were nearly the same weight and height. Jazz knew Prowl's fighting style. And while he certainly could take care of himself in a fight, he knew if Prowl got a hold of him, the battle had the potential to be over very quickly.

"Prowl, you gotta fight this," Jazz tried again. 'This isn't what you do, man. Look at me, I'm not armed. You don't have to fight me."

Prowl paused and inspected his opponent. He was indeed unarmed. But logic told him that an unarmed Autobot could still be a threat. Especially this one. This Autobot was resourceful and sneaky. Armed or not, it would be prudent to put his opponent out of commission before he had a chance to try something.

Prowl tensed in the darkness and lunged. With his high-beams directly in Jazz's optic band, it made it hard for him to see in either normal or night vision. As he was sure was Prowl's plan.

Jazz dodged again, trying to stay out of Prowl's reach. Not many Autobots had really seen Prowl in action. For one, because his rank dictated he orchestrate attacks rather than carry them out. And two, because Prowl's fights didn't last very long.

Everything Prowl did in battle was quick, clean, and precise. No move wasted, no weakness not taken advantage of. Every action planned for a quick victory requiring the least amount of risk and energy expended. It was this approach that made him a brilliant tactician and a lethal opponent.

When Jazz refused to be a part of his plan of attack, Prowl decided to force his hand. He pulled out his blaster and attempted to fire. Jazz had no choice but to either lunge for the gun or get shot. That was just what Prowl was counting on.

But Prowl expected Jazz to go for the gun. Jazz knew he would expect that and charged the Datsun, catching him in the mid section and knocking them both to the ground. If he could get Prowl by surprise and throw off his strategy enough, he just might have a chance.

Jazz was instantly on top, trying to pin Prowl face down with an arm behind him and Jazz's knee pressing into his back. His mistake had been to think that if he kept himself between the cop car's door panels Prowl couldn't get to him. He as so intent on holding him down, Jazz didn't notice Prowl rotate his entire waist around 180 degrees until Prowl's legs grabbed him and yanked him backwards to the ground.

One moment with the upper hand was all Prowl needed. He grabbed the car nose of Jazz's chest and swiftly jabbed his hand up through the undercarriage, wrapping his fist around several thick wires and savagely ripping them out. Jazz's motor relay was a lot harder to get to than most other designs. But this would definitely slow him down.

Jazz spasmed as wires and connections ripped and sparked. But Prowl wasn't finished. He had to make sure this fight was over. If an opponent couldn't see, they couldn't fight. Prowl climbed onto the twitching Porsche, balled his fist and slammed it into Jazz's optic band as hard as he could. The glass-like material cracked under the force. Prowl hit it again and again, shattering light blue shards all over the ground, injuring the face as well as the optics and showing no sign of slowing down.

"Prowl!" a female voice cut through the violence. "Stop! It's over!"

His fist stayed in the air as Crystal, bleeding and bruised, threw herself on Jazz's shoulder. Her eyes were wide and wet with terror as she gazed at the disfigured face beyond the blinding head lights.

"He's not moving, Prowl. It's finished. You can stop now."

Prowl removed his knee from where he had shoved it in Jazz's mid section and stood up to grab his blaster. He pointed it at the shaking human kneeling next to his felled adversary.

Crystal tried to keep her voice and her tears under control. She was scared out of her mind. Not just for herself, but for her friends who had something very horrible happening to them. She prayed for the wisdom to know how to help them.

"Prowl, it's okay," Crystal sniffed as her nose began to run. It was hard to see, it was hard to breathe. She was shaking so bad. It felt like her throat would close on her, but she forced the words out anyway.

"No one is going to hurt you. You got them all, you're safe now."

Prowl just watched her as if not expecting such a response. His processor whirled with possibilities. Crystal kept her eyes rooted on the barrel of the weapon.

"Prowl," she said softly. "I'm your friend. Please put the gun down."

His response was instant, aggressively moving forward and fingering the trigger.

Crystal flinched and made a sound of fear. When she wasn't blown to bits, she opened her eyes to see Prowl still standing there in indecision.

The Autobot froze for a second as the usual barrage of voices filled his head. This little human addressing him was no threat at all, yet her words filled him with a type of fear he could not explain. She was draped over Jazz's shoulder as if trying to protect him, so how could she be Prowl's friend while asking him to stop attacking his enemies?

The voices suggested and argued through all the different options. Even if the human was not on his side, what harm would it do to let her go? Or would he later regret underestimating her? Shouldn't all who are not helping him be destroyed? It seemed the most logical and practical way; most of the voices agreed with that.

Still, another voice screamed in the very back where it could hardly be heard. The words it said were attached to fierce emotions that followed no logic at all. Prowl did his best to ignore them. It felt as if something inside him would break if he heeded that voice.

The decision was made. In war, you left nothing to chance. All lose ends needed to be tied up. His finger twitched around the trigger and Crystal closed her eyes, waiting for the end.

Still, that one voice that didn’t agree was screaming at him. More than that, in the deepest corners, it was prying apart that wall he counted on to keep emotion out of his decisions and logic above personal feelings. That wall he had installed so long ago was reaching its limit. It was breaking and everything it kept in the darkness for so many countless years was threatening to come out.

Then, suddenly, all was silenced.

* * *

 

 

Crystal felt frozen in time, trapped and helpless. She knew she was useless, but how could she leave Jazz and Sunstreaker? How could she leave Prowl? But if she let him kill her, Prowl would have to live with that murder on his hands. She couldn't do that to him either.

The choice for action, however, was removed from her hands when the high-pitch whine of an energy blast cut through the silence. Crystal clutched herself, wide-eyed as she searched her body for damage. Nothing. She looked up to see that Prowl's gun was no longer in his hand. Even without the face, his body language told he was just as surprised as she was.

Another shot fired.

And another.

Prowl's head jerked back as a shot hit him square on the crest of his forehead, and then in the exposed neck. The lights of his optics and headlights flickered and then went out as Prowl crumpled into a motionless heap.

From the distant tree line, Bluestreak sat behind a thick trunk, hunched in guilt and clutching his smoking gun. It was the last thing he ever wanted to do, but he had no choice.

"Sorry, Prowl," he whispered to the darkness.

Down below, Crystal was left in unnerving silence and pitch black. All lights were out, she couldn't see a thing. She had no idea what happened or if she was with the living or the dead. All she could do was sit near Jazz's shoulder and wait for help.

From the silent body, she felt a low hum of something mechanical powering up. Jazz let out a groan as his body rebooted his systems and came to life.

"Jazz!" Crystal exclaimed, clutching his shoulder.

Jazz instantly paused at the sound of her voice. "Crys? You okay? What's going on?"

"It's over, Jazz. Prowl's down. I think someone shot him. I don't know if he's okay."

Jazz didn't dare move. He could feel the human leaning on his shoulder. "Who did it? My optics are completely offline. I can't see."

"I can't see either," Crystal admitted. "It's complete darkness out here. I- I don't really know who's out there."

Jazz instantly flipped on his headlights. One flickered and went off but the other stayed on.

"Crys, move back a few steps. I'm going to sit up." His voice sounded damaged. It drifted in and out, full of static, like a radio on the fritz.

Crystal stepped back, giving ample room for the Autobot to move without accidentally bumping her. As he sat up, he grabbed his damaged face. Tiny shards from his optic band glittered past the light and made a tinkling noise as it landed on his hood.

"Are you okay?" Crystal asked in a small voice.

"I'll be fine," Jazz said with a seriousness in his tone she had never heard before. "Where's Prowl?"

"He's to your left. He hasn't moved."

Jazz swung a bit in that direction, even though he couldn't see.

"I'll go over there and check-" Crystal volunteered.

"No," Jazz cut her off. "You will stay right here next to me. We're going to wait for the others. You just tell me if Prowl starts to move."

Crystal nodded and stood silently where she was.

"Crys?"

"Yeah?"

"Where'd ya go?"

"I'm still right here," she insisted, sounding a bit annoyed.

"Well Primus, woman, I can't see!" Jazz shot back. "How am I supposed to know where you are? I don't want to end up rolling over you or something."

Crystal sighed and put her palm flat on his thigh near the hip joint. She was about to say something when a high pitched scream came from the tree line and both of them froze.

* * *

 

 

Bluestreak had not moved the entire time. He didn't want to. It felt wrong to fire; even if it was to save an innocent life and save Prowl from a lifetime of regret. He still hated doing it. When he heard one of his fellow Autobots drive up and walk towards him, Bluestreak didn't move

"Hey Bluestreak, you okay?"

He heard Mirage's voice, but didn't look up until a hand was on his shoulder. Then Bluestreak lifted his head to see a faceless abomination in front of him and he let out a blood-curdling scream.

"Slag it, Bluestreak! My audios!" Brawn barked from behind Mirage.

"It's okay, Blue," Mirage chuckled, offering him a hand. "The doc fixed my programming, but I'll have to wait until we get back to the med bay to fix my face."

Bluestreak took the hand offered and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

"So what happened?" Brawn asked.

Bluestreak looked down at the ground. "I had to shoot him. I … I think I just knocked him out, but I'm not sure. I didn't try to hurt him. I just ... wanted Prowl to stop."

The shorter Autobot put a hand on the gunner's shoulder. "You did your best. I'm sure he'll be okay. The others are headed there right now. Come on."

* * *

 

 

The wilderness was once again silent. Not even the local wildlife dared make a sound after such ruckus. Jazz stayed on high alert, keen hearing listening for anything. Several headlights shined in the distance followed by the rumbling of engines and tires. Crystal moved behind Jazz, unsure what to make of the convoy. Jazz didn't move as the vehicles pulled up, a red semi in the lead.

"Jazz, what's the status?"

Crystal brightened. It was hard to mistake that voice for anyone else. "Optimus Prime!" She ran over and pressed herself against the flat nose of the semi.

"I'm not really sure what's going on," Jazz responded. "I have zero visibility and Prowl’s down ... somewhere over there."

For the first time, Jazz attempted to find his friend. He groped blindly to his left and his hand found Prowl's foot.

In the distance, Ratchet's angry voice sounded somewhere in the night. "Primus! Look at Sunstreaker! I'm going to be repairing him all damn week!"

"It looks like you and I will be bunk mates for a while, Ratch," Sideswipe's voice sing-songed.

"Oh no! No no no! You are _not_ setting up camp in my med bay again!"

"But I get lonely..."

"Get a pet!"

"Will you make me one?"

"NO!"

Wheeljack, newly fixed, but still faceless, walked over to inspect Prowl's body. "Definitely Bluestreak's work," said the inventor. "He would be the only one with enough skill to hit these direct spots and enough knowledge of Prowl's design to hit the right places since he's got the same design himself."

Wheeljack quickly flipped open Prowl's chest panel. He plugged in the same device Ratchet had used earlier and began typing away.

"First, we'll get his programming back to normal and then try to repair his injuries and put him back online. It's funny how such a simple human hack job became such a problem for us. It really surprises me how resourceful they are sometimes."

"So, will he be okay then?" Crystal asked, wandering over, but trying to remain a safe distance.

"Eventually," Wheeljack confirmed. "Depending on the damage, I may be able to fix him enough to get him home under his own power. Just give me some time."

"Got another one for you, Prime," Ratchet said as he and Sideswipe carried what remained of Sunstreaker's car mode. "I need all available hands and optics looking for any pieces of him you can find."

"On it," Windcharger volunteered. "If it's made of metal, I can get it, no problem."

Optimus Prime opened the door to his trailer and Ratchet and Sideswipe loaded Sunstreaker inside. Ironhide's immobile body was already inside. He was still missing his motor relay. Sideswipe's was in good enough shape that it could be put back in. Ironhide had his run over by Mirage. He would have to wait.

Ratchet then went to inspect Jazz, looking at the exposed wiring in his chest and then at what remained of the optic band.

"He got you good, huh?"

"It was a dirty trick," Jazz responded. "If he hadn't been brainwashed, Prowl would never have stooped so low."

"I'm sure he would agree," Ratchet said. He looped one of Jazz's arms over his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, we'll get both of you back to the base and running right."

Meanwhile, Wheeljack had finished putting Prowl's programming back in order. Now he had a small pen like welder in this hand in attempts to fix the damage done by Bluestreak's impeccable aim.

Crystal had since wandered in closer, watching Wheeljack work. She wasn't familiar with most of the other Autobots milling around the area. Now and then she would glance at them in curiosity, but most of her attention and concern remained on Prowl.

At the moment, his head was turned toward her and Crystal got a very clear view of what remained of his face. The mesh of wiring told of no facial features whatsoever. The optics were wide and dark. Blank, staring, soulless. Looking at him, it seemed so unlikely that anything sentient, intelligent or caring was within that metal shell. Perhaps she would never truly understand how life entered these robotic beings.

"Okay, here we go," Wheeljack announced. "I’m going to reboot his systems."

* * *

 

 

Prowl felt the power surge through his processor as his systems powered up one by one. Prowl felt the familiar order as one section would come online, then another. But then power hit a certain program. Prowl waited for its information to upload, but something was missing. A block that had always been there was gone. Information that had been locked away- things that he had not thought about in millions of years- were accessed. The past and present collided in his mind and he could not tell in which era of his memories- Cybertron or Earth- he existed.

Prowl jumped back as he came online, hitting into a large boulder, clearly startled. He reached for his gun and glanced around wildly when it wasn't there.

"Not the response I expected," Wheeljack admitted. He crouched on his knees, pushing Crystal back with one hand in case Prowl did something drastic.

"Where am I?" Prowl demanded. "What's going on?"

"Prowl," Ratchet ordered. "Run a diagnostics test and give me your results."

It took a moment longer for Prowl to sort out the memories of the past and the present and figure out where he fit in all of it. Then he finally recalled the humans who had captured him. They had messed with his programming. They didn't force him to do anything against his will, they made him believe that the Autobots were his enemies. That he _wanted_ them out of commission.

"What ... what did I do?" he asked in a hollow voice.

Ratchet stepped forward. "Nothing that can't be fixed, now give me your hand."

Prowl still seemed a bit disoriented as he was pulled to his feet. The medical officer couldn't help but notice Prowl's distress levels were continuing to rise without any probable reason Ratchet could see.

"Prowl," Ratchet said, which seemed to shake him momentarily from his thoughts, “are you ... alright?"

Prowl shook his head, but it wasn't to answer Ratchet's question. Those inner voices were talking to him all at once. There were more now and they all tried to get his attention, unhindered by programs that had been in place before. It was impossible to make sense of any of it.

Ratchet frowned at him.

"You're going in the trailer, Prowl. I don't know if we should let you drive home."

Ratchet grabbed his arm in a fashion that suggested no argument. Prowl did not protest as he was led into Optimus Prime's trailer and sat down opposite of Jazz. Ironhide's body and Sunstreaker's smashed car form were present as well.

Prowl gazed regrettably at Sunstreaker as the trailer doors closed.

* * *

 

 

"Well, here we are," Bumblebee announced happily as he pulled up in front of Clarissa's house.

It had been a busy night for the teenagers after their Halloween plans were interrupted. Originally, Wheeljack had been their chaperone, silently shadowed by Cliffjumper, but that had been before Decepticon airplanes attacked them right in the middle of their ghost stories.

Both Autobots had taken off after the Decepticons, leaving the teens alone. After giving a proper head start, they attempted to follow in Trevor's car, just to see what had happened. By the time they made it into the area, Cliffjumper was left in shambles and Wheeljack had been taken. They waited until a rescue team of Autobots arrived, as well as several policeman, before deciding what to do next. The night was still fairly young and none of the teens felt the need to go home just yet.

At that point, Trevor's old junk car decided it had had enough excitement for one night and refused to start. Bumblebee, who had been part of the rescue team, happily volunteered to tow the car home and drive them around for the rest of the night. Daniel was less enthused about the idea than his friends, but he conceded to the idea.

It turned out to be a pretty fun night. They went to the old hospital as planned and Bumblebee was small enough to squeeze in with them. They all had a ball trying to rouse spirits and telling each other ghost stories. Bumblebee had some very good ones to tell, which he said Spike he learned from Spike when they would go camping. Chills and thrills were had by all and Daniel had to admit that he had very little to complain about.

"I had _so_ much fun!" Clarissa announced from the back as she reached from behind and hugged Daniel in the front seat. "We have to do this again next year! Thanks for the ride Bumblebee!" She merrily fled the yellow bug and ran to her door before anyone could offer to walk her up. She waved one more time from the porch before going inside.

Bumblebee chuckled at Daniel's bewildered grin, which was immediately replaced with frown.

"Not a word!" he threatened.

"Fine, fine," Bumblebee relented. "Now, oh, it looks like we still have someone else to take home."

"What do you mean?” Daniel insisted. “There's no one back there.”

He glanced into the rear view mirror and saw a girl his age with sunken eyes wearing a white dress. Daniel whipped his head around to see the stranger in the back seat, but she had disappeared. Even the Autobot shuttered a bit before both let out a terrified scream that echoed through what remained of the night.

* * *

 

 

"Megatron,” Soundwave radioed to his leader as he brooded in his quarters, “incoming request to raise tower for landing. Decepticons requesting: Skywarp, Astrotrain, Ramjet."

This had Megatron's full attention.

"Let them in, Soundwave. I will meet you up there. Megatron out."

When he reached the top level, three very animated and wounded jets tried to explain to him all at once what happened to them. Megatron didn't like that at all and demanded order.

"Some stinking humans captured us and messed with our programing," Astrotrain spat with disgust. "Made us do anything they told us! It wasn't our fault!"

"Yeah!" Rambjet jumped in. He looked like he had just barely made the flight back with all his damage. "They did it to Autobots, too! But don't worry, Megatron, their whole operation was slagged good!"

"Really..." Megatron mused. “How did that happen? How did you get away? No doubt Autobots with their noble intentions."

The seekers looked at each other.

"I think it was Starscream," Skywarp admitted. "He said he blew their base."

"Yeah, yeah," Ramjet chimed in, still excited. "I came online and he was fixing me."

"And where is he now?" Megatron asked.

Ramjet shrugged. "He told us to get back to base for repairs and he would be behind us as soon as he wrapped things up.”

Megatron looked intrigued. "Interesting."

* * *

 

 

“You okay, Prowl?” Jazz asked in the stillness. “You're so quiet. I expected you to be chatting up a storm as to all the possibilities of how we got ourselves caught up in this mess.”

Prowl jerked at the voice, pulled out of his thoughts. He kept slipping into his old world, a part of his past when the fear of the war was still new and he had never heard Jazz's voice before.

“I'm sure I will be. I just need a moment to get my thoughts in order. It is … a little jumbled in there right now,” Prowl admitted.

“They messed with you good, huh?”

“Yes. My chronological senses are particularly damaged. My self repair is attempting to get my memory files back in order. And I am sorry for attacking you.”

“Nah, don't worry about that.” Jazz quickly waved it off. “Even though I can't see, I'm sure I still came out of this looking better than you.”

“You always do,” came the dry remark and Jazz knew Prowl would be okay.

"So, what was it like?" Jazz then asked. “Did you know what they were making you do or do you remember anything?"

“It was a very strange sensation, Jazz. They didn't just have control over my body, it was over my thoughts, my own decisions. They made me believe I had chosen to make the Autobots my enemies. Their objectives were not only my own, but I had _decided_ to make them my own.”

"Wow, and what was that like?" Jazz asked with a small grin of morbid curiosity.

Prowl took a moment to think. "It was like ... being a Decepticon, I would imagine. Everything was about the prime directive. If something helped you, you kept it. If it didn't, you got rid of it. You stayed the logical route. There was no gray area, no compassion, no mercy for anyone that was not on your side."

Prowl paused and glanced over at Sunstreaker again. "It was very easy for me to think that way, Jazz. So easy, it was frightening."

"No," Jazz insisted seriously. “Just because they made you think that way, it doesn't mean that's how you want to think. I know you, Prowl. You love logic, but you love life more."

"Still, I am sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about, man. Nothing has been broken that can't be repaired."

Prowl silently wondered if the same could be said about himself. Ever since he had been brought online, he felt different. He just couldn't put a finger on how he felt different.

"We're making a quick stop," Optimus radioed to them as he began to slow down. "I want Crystal to see a doctor. I'm leaving Windcharger here at the hospital to take her home when she is finished."

Prowl jumped to his feet before the vehicle had come to a complete stop. Crystal. He had forgotten all about her. He was the one that had brought her to that horrible place. He left her alone with those dangerous people. Then he caused Sunstreaker's wreck while she was inside. He opened the door to the trailer before it came to a full stop and stumbled outside.

"Hey, where are you going?" Jazz demanded as he groped around blindly. "What's going on?"

Prowl found the human climbing out of Optimus' cab. "Crystal, are you alright?" he asked as he knelt to get closer.

She smiled at him, looking banged up, but in no great physical pain. She had a bit of dried blood on her cheek, but nowhere near as much blood as the last time she had wrecked Sunstreaker. Prowl regretted there had been a last time at all.

"I'll be alright," she shrugged. "Nothing big. I'll no doubt be sore for a while, but, you know, time heals all things.”

Even without a face, Prowl radiated an intense emotion at those words that had Crystal worried.

"I'll be waiting to take you home," he insisted.

"Oh no you're not," Ratchet's ambulance mode shot back. "You're not driving anywhere until I can give you a proper check up first."

"I'm functioning just fine. I can drive myself," Prowl argued. "I would not offer if I felt I were putting any passengers as risk.”

Both of them looked to Optimus Prime for the decision.

"It will be Crystal's choice," he mandated.

She walked up to the faceless Autobot, wondering what expression he would be making if he could make it. "Do you feel okay to do this, Prowl? It's not a big deal, anyone can drive me home."

"You were my responsibility. I need to finish it."

"That's not what I asked,” she shot back in a motherly tone. “I've already been in one automobile accident today.”

"I am physically and functionally sound."

“How about emotionally?”

Prowl did pause at that. “I am … in adequate condition.”

Crystal sighed. Prowl was being oddly stubborn about this. But at the same time, she understood that drive to see one's own responsibilities to the end.

“Yeah, that's fine. If you promise me you're okay to drive, I'll let you take me home.”

Prowl transformed into car mode. Scratches on his front bumper were the only evidence of the night's battles. “On my honor.”

“But you will return to base directly afterward for your own check up,” Optimus insisted, “understood?”

"Yes sir."

"Good. That will be all then. Autobots, let's roll for home."

* * *

 

 

Tired, a little burnt, and deeply frustrated at his failure, Dr. Kraus fled his underground hanger via a secret back door he had built for himself in case of such an emergency. He did not have to go back to know that Starscream did not leave anything worth salvaging. The entire bunker was a complete loss and he did not plan to ever return.

Falling back to his secondary base, Dr. Kraus trudged inside. It was another large warehouse-like building with tall ceilings to accommodate his large robot obsession. He looked forward to some peace and quiet while he licked his wounds and plotted his next step. This required a strong drink, he decided.

Flipping on a small light, it barely lit up his work station as he booted up his computer. As it hummed to life, he poured himself a glass of scotch and plopped heavily into a padded chair with a sigh. So much work wasted. So much time, money and equipment gone. Hardly a soul knew he had invested so much. It was such a tragedy. After all, he was doing it for all of them.

It was for people, for human race, he had gone to such lengths. These giant, mechanical beings had been running rampant, ruining cities, homes, and killing innocent people for years. Yet, there had never been any call for either exile from Earth or their annihilation.

Most people saw them as living, thinking, feeling beings. As if these things had a right to life just like everyone else. Dr. Kraus, obviously, did not agree. He was a scientist, and as such, saw them for what they really were- the result of another creator's tinkering. Perhaps an experiment that got out of hand and was now running lose throughout the universe.

But that was what they were: a product, a mistake. Someone's mess left for others to clean up. They were nothing but malfunctioning equipment and any reasonable person knew if the device didn't do what it was supposed to do, then you shut it down. That was exactly what Dr. Kraus had tried to do: take the machines over and turn them against each other until they wiped out their own kind. He never expected it to go so horribly wrong.

Now, he was back to square one and it was maddening. His computer finished loading and the scientist began clicking through all the research and data he had backed up at his home base. At least he still had all his research files.

He meandered aimlessly through his notes as he slowly nursed his drink. So much information. What should he do with it now? His mouse wandered to his newest findings: all his recent research on the Autobots and their inner programming and thought processing. He had to know what happened with that black and white one that wouldn't listen to them. Not to mention there was the mystery of why Starscream couldn't be reprogrammed. He still had so much to learn. It had been arrogant of him to assume he could control such complicated machinery with the limited data he had. He should have had more patience before he put his plan into action.

Something to keep in mind for next time. And there would definitely be at next time. Just as soon as he solved these puzzles.

As he looked over his information, Dr. Kraus furrowed his brow as something clicked into place. He looked over Starscream's data and then the Autobot's data again just to make sure.

"No..." he breathed. "It's impossible, isn't it? Could it be?"

"Looks like someone discovered my secret,” said a high, metallic voice from the darkness.

Dr. Kraus jumped to his feet, spilling his chair and his drink. Glowing red optics hovered above him in the darkness.

"It's not true!" Kraus demanded as Starscream stepped into the dim light. The darkness and the size of the room had hidden him well. "It didn't work because I tried to reprogram you as the wrong type of robot?!" His voice was high pitched and full of horror and disbelief.

Starscream snarled and stepped aggressively forward. "Let's not advertise it around!"

Dr. Kraus jumped back, stumbling and falling on the floor.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Starscream reached down and snatched him up, bringing the human up to his eye level.

"You have very much disrespected us, Doctor. Decepticon law is clear."

"But-but you're not a Decepticon!" Dr. Kraus cried frantically. "You're Autobot! You can't hurt me! It's in your programming!"

“Oh, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor,” Starscream said in a patronizing voice, “you really don't know anything, do you? No one created us to be Autobots or Decepticons. Before the war, neither faction even existed.”

“Faction?” Kraus asked in a thin voice, still trembling with fear. “I don't understand.”

“Perhaps we as Cybertronians were always made be to a split people. You have your domestic types and your military types. When the war broke out, we each had to choose which side to join. Of course, certain factions were more appealing to certain types.”

“The Autobots appealed more to the domestic types,” Kraus surmised. “But you, despite your domestic programming-”

“I am a Decepticon,” Starscream said with pride. “I am not how I was built. I made myself into what I am. For you see, Doctor, I am indeed, truly alive."

Kraus was hardly listening to the end statement as his brain whirled through the possibilities. “So faction doesn't dictate programing. No next time, we'll have to test both types on every specimen we-”

He was cut off as Starscream laughed, a shrill, unpleasant sound.

“What's so funny?” Kraus demanded, feeling emboldened now that he had learned the secret.

Starscream grinned. “I just find it amusing that you think you're going to survive this.”

The human's screams of terror and pain filled the building and then were forever silenced.

* * *

 

 

When Crystal stepped out of urgent care, her favorite police car was waiting for her. “Are you still feeling okay?” she asked as she got in the passenger side. “I kept worrying about you out here by yourself.”

“Me?” Prowl protested. “I look better than you do.”

Crystal looked down at her hands now thoroughly bandaged. “Just some small electrical burns. They'll be healed in no time.” She took a moment to check out her appearance in his rear view mirror. The scabbing cut on her cheek looked worse than it felt. “Nothing big here. I feel far worse for that poor yellow Autobot."

"Sunstreaker, yes. That was also my fault."

“None of this was your fault,” Crystal insisted as they drove away from the hospital. “It was their fault for messing with Decepticons and trying to play God with all of you.”

“Still, it was my responsibility to at least keep you safe and I was unable to do that.”

“It is only your fault if you did nothing.”

The two fell into silence, the lights of the city sweeping over them as Prowl drove along the nearly empty streets. Dawn would be upon them in only a few hours.

“Do you mind if I ask again if you're okay?” Crystal said to break the quiet. “I don't know why, but I'm getting a sense that you're a bit distressed about something. It worries me."

"It has been a very difficult night," Prowl admitted. "Difficult for all those who had humans changing and controlling their very thoughts. In the course of rectifying the damage, it brought up some memory files from the past that I had forgotten about. They were not pleasant memories and when my chronometer glitches, I feel stuck in that past for a moment.”

Crystal said nothing.

“I'm sorry if that was confusing,” Prowl added.

“No, I understand. I was just shocked by such a straightforward answer.” She smiled at the dashboard. “Thanks for telling me. That makes me feel better than if you just insisted you were okay.”

“I am always straightforward. How am I supposed to get anything done otherwise?”

To that, Crystal laughed. “Of course. I forgot who I was talking to.”

Crystal closed the door and patted his hood affectionately as she walked around the front. Her form blocked out his headlights, projecting a shadow image on the side of the building. Her body suddenly jerked, head flipping back. Something warm and wet splattered over the front corner of Prowl's hood.

The whistle of a second bullet flew from somewhere on the building tops. It pierced through Prowl's windshield, as if meant to kill his non-existent driver. Crystal's body slumped and fell lifelessly to the ground before Prowl even had a moment to figure out the shooter's whereabouts.

Blood dripped off the nose of the police car as more spilled out of the lifeless body and onto the ground. Prowl was left alone in the silence just before dawn.

 

 

 

 


	6. That Which Can't Be Fixed

**Ghost in the Machine**

**Chapter Five: That Which Can’t Be Fixed**

 

“Prowl?”

Bluestreak peered into the dark room. Dimly illuminated by the light of the doorway hunched a form similar to his own. His back faced the door; still, silent, but clutching his head as if haunted by internal demons. He had not moved from that spot for a while and refused to acknowledge anyone who tried to talk to him.

“Come on, Prowl. Speak to me. Tell me what happened. What did you see?”

The black and white Autobot remained despondent, as if swallowed up by his own world.

Regrettably, Bluestreak left the scene without a sound and made his way toward the repair bay. The place was lively; full of conversing voices and the hum of machines. Bluestreak approached Ratchet, who had firmly planted himself over Sunstreaker's slightly restored form.

"I think Prowl needs help," the gray Datsun insisted. “He just sits in the dark. He won't move or say anything. I think there's something wrong with him. Someone needs to-"

"Everyone is busy!" Ratchet barked back, up to his elbows in Sunstreaker's gaping hood. "I have every available staff member running system diagnostics or fixing injuries. Not to mention the _extra_ job Prowl himself saw fit to bestow upon us in all _his_ infinite wisdom. I do not have time for his brooding, Bluestreak."

"I'll help ya, man," Jazz called from across the room, “just let me finish up here."

Bluestreak wandered past Grapple, who was finishing his repairs on Cliffjumper, and approached the table where Wheeljack helped Jazz slide his new optic band in place. It connected with a click and Jazz began downloading his visual software into the new accessory. Then, the band flickered brightly as it was powered on.

"Can you see me?" Wheeljack waved.

"Yup," Jazz confirmed with a smirk. "Though, not the best view a mech could wake up to."

"Get off my table," Wheeljack retorted flatly.

Jazz swung his feet and hopped off in high spirits while Wheeljack moved to the next patient in line.

"I tried to talk to him a few times," Bluestreak explained as they walked down the hall, "but he never responds to anything I say. He just sits there. Do ... do you think he's mad at me for shooting him?"

"Nah," Jazz insisted, "I don't think he really cares. He's got heavier things on his mind right now."

They poked their heads into the small, dark room where Prowl had retreated. He was still the same as Bluestreak had left him, his back to the door.

Jazz switched on the lights.

"Come on, Prowl, you can't stay in here forever. What's done is done. Sitting here in the dark isn’t going to change anything.”

He walked around to face his friend, and even Jazz balked a little at the dried human blood sprayed all over Prowl's front. The sight of it sobered Jazz right up. He knelt in front of his fellow SIC and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Prowl, you gotta stop beating yourself up about this. You made the call and I support you on this. I'm with you, alright? It will be okay."

Prowl shook him off. "No, Jazz, you don't understand. I got confused. I just couldn't let it happen again. My orders were … I ... I-"

A big blue hand palmed Prowl by the helmet and lifted him to his feet.

"I need to have a word with you," Optimus Prime ordered and began dragging Prowl none too gently toward the door.

Jazz and Bluestreak moved to follow.

"You two stay here," Optimus insisted. "This is a private meeting; I'll make it quick."

He kept his hold on Prowl's helm as he led the startled tactician out of the base and around the mountainside where they could be alone. The sun was peeking over the mountain tops, shedding new light on the world. When they had moved out of view of the Ark, only then did Optimus finally let go and fold his arms over his chest with a stern look.

Prowl just waited for judgment to be passed upon him.

Optimus shook his head at his second in command. "I don't even know what to say to you, Prowl. This is..."

"I take full responsibility for my decision," Prowl responded. "It's my problem and I will take care of it."

"It's everyone's problem now and you know that!" Optimus shot back, not sounding pleased at all. "This will affect all of us. If I would have known what you were doing, I would have-"

"Stopped me?" Prowl finished. "Ended the transfer process? Pulled the plug?”

Optimus was silent for a moment. Then he looked at the rising sun in defeat.

"As little authority as I believe you had to make that call, I would have had even less. And I do not wish myself in your situation. However, I wish I knew why you felt that this was the only course of action left to you, Prowl. Why did you do it?"

Prowl looked down in stubborn silence. His door panels twitched as if a shiver ran through him, but he offered up no explanation for his actions.

"Very well," Optimus conceded. "It has already been done. There is no backing out now. I just want you to know, that for whatever reason you did this, this path is not a solution to your problem."

Prowl's head shot up, but he did not say anything.

"Now," the Prime continued, "I order you to go directly to the repair bay and wait there until Ratchet is free to look at you. I don't care if that is three days from now; you will sit there until it's finished. And then, maybe you should sit there some more." Every word radiated a tone of disapproval that had never been used on the second in command before.

Prowl lowered his head, fists clenched at his side. "Yes, sir," he said quietly.

"Clean yourself up on the way," Optimus added, referring to the dried blood on Prowl's hood. "I have seen enough of that to last me a life time."

Prowl nodded, his voice in hoarse agreement. "Yes, sir."

* * *

 

 

Noise constantly reverberated out of the repair bay. Sometimes it was a welder, other times, a sander or riveter. In between quiet periods, a monotone female voice idly repeated, "Testing ... testing ... testing..." every few seconds.

Wheeljack listened intently to the voice, then he would adjust it according to his own memory records and listen again.

Prowl stepped in, surveyed the area, then approached Ratchet. "It's been three days. I want a progress report."

"Talk to Wheeljack," Ratchet responded, “he's been working on it."

Prowl frowned. "I told you to head this project."

Ratchet's head snapped up sharply. "Well, I'm busy! I've been working double time on Sunstreaker, trying to get him finished so I can then turn my attention to your ridiculous demands!"

"Yeah, frag off, Prowl," Sunstreaker jumped in. Ratchet has since repaired him enough to get him in root mode. "You're the one who did this to me. Now you gotta wait until every little scratch and ding is shined out of my paint job. I'll let you wax if you _really_ want to," he grinned cheekily.

The frown on Prowl's face just etched itself deeper.

Ratchet looked around as if just realizing something. "Where did your brother go? Sideswipe has been making a pest of himself all morning and then he just disappeared."

Wheeljack looked up as well. “I'm not sure. He came over here and messed with my files, then he just up and left without a word."

Prowl walked over to the screen that had been left on. All information to be had on one Crystal Carlisle had been pulled up. Anything that existed on any computer data base was all listed there. Bank accounts, drivers license, previous addresses and more were present, along with the history of her parents, their deaths, and any possible living relatives.

Prowl paused and looked at the picture on the screen. In the background, the female voice that was too familiar for comfort kept "Testing ... testing ... testing..." away behind him.

"What is the status, then?" Prowl asked.

"It's going to be a couple more days at least," Wheeljack responded. "Maybe a week."

"This is taking quite a long time," Prowl accused.

Wheeljack swiveled around in his chair to face him. "Look, do you want it done fast or do you want it done right? This is delicate work, Prowl. It can't just happen on your schedule."

Prowl managed to look momentarily frazzled before schooling his expression again.

"Look," Wheeljack said, standing up, “there is no deadline for this. All the information has already been downloaded into the personality component. It can wait to be installed as long as it needs to."

He tugged Prowl's arm as a request to follow him deeper into the bed bay. "Because of a previous incident, which I don't need to explain, we are proceeding carefully. Not to mention our parts inventory leaves us a bit lacking. We've had to make due with what limited resources we have."

Wheeljack led Prowl over to a table where several skeletal structures of body parts lay. He picked up the mostly completed head and shoved it into Prowl's hands.

"You may think this is the same thing we did with Spike, but you're wrong," Wheeljack said lowly. "We can't afford to mess up this time. It will take however long it takes to be perfected. And even then, we can't promise anything. Do you understand?"

Prowl looked at the head in his hands for several moments. The thoughts passing through his processor were unreadable on his face.

"Understood," he said finally. "Take the time you need and please keep me posted."

He set the head down gently on the table and turned to leave. He paused and turned around again.

"Thank you."

Wheeljack nodded. "We'll do our best, Prowl, I promise."

Prowl offered him a slight nod and then left.

* * *

 

 

Jazz looked up as a heavy body dropped into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"So," Ironhide said, making no pretenses to why he was there, "I hear our little pet project is about finished. Only a few more days."

"Yup," Jazz replied nonchalantly as he took a sip of energon. "That's what I hear, too."

Ironhide eyed him suspiciously. He was obviously looking for a specific response.

"Prime's been pacing around the place since it started, but he won't go near the med bay. Prowl hardly works a shift without poking his nose in there. It's got everyone on edge."

Jazz nodded. "I'm not surprised. It's kind of a big deal."

"You don't seem to worried about it, though."

Jazz shrugged. "When it happens, it happens. Worrying about it won't change anything. You know me, man, I just like to go with the flow and see what turns up."

"So yer're completely fine with this? Ya don't have any problems with it whatsoever?"

Again, another shrug. "Hey man, I told Prowl I was behind him on this. I'm just not letting myself get bent out of shape over it."

Ironhide frowned. "You don't care," he accused.

Jazz's jaw dropped in offense. "I do, too!"

"If that kid was any type a friend of yers, you'd be a lot more concerned about what's gonna happen. There could be serious consequences ta this and yer're in here kickin’ back with a drink like there's nothing ta worry about. Ya don't care."

Jazz instantly stood up, his mouth set in a firm line. He looked down at Ironhide for a while and then left the room without further comment.

Several Autobots noticed Jazz wander around the Ark looking deep in thought for quite some time. Eventually, his meandering led him to a certain room where he sat himself down with determined finality.

"I haven't seen you in almost two weeks," Ratchet commented without looking up from his work. He was fiddling with the delicate joints of a hand, which was connected to a mostly finished body. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Jazz sat forward, fists clenched on his knees. "I want you to tell me what exactly our chances are on this."

* * *

 

 

Existence alone was strange. But that was all she was, a ball of existence. There was no touch, no sight, no smell. Neither feelings nor thoughts or time. Just a sense of being; of not ceasing to exist. She was merely presence of self. The rest of her, the physical part, was forgotten.

Not until a switch was flipped, then it all came rushing back.

First, thought returned, followed by sight in the form of blinding white static. The static began to fade to allow colors. The images jumbled, then bounced, and then began to clear. She could actually feel the process of sending what she saw to her brain to determine what she was looking at. Systems were uploading for the first time, taking a few moments to come to full speed.

The picture adjusted to a clear format and she told her head to move from side to side to get a better look at her surroundings.

There was noise, talking. The things standing over her moved around, but it was as if they were speaking a different language. It took a while for her thoughts to recall the spoken language and how to communicate. As the talking continued, she slowly began to understand it.

"There's something wrong! She's not responding! Fix her, Ratchet!"

"Give it some time, Jazz. Her systems are booting up for the first time. It will take a few minutes for everything to be running at full speed."

She turned her head. That voice and that name struck recognition in her memory.

"Jazz." She said it without thinking. It felt like the voice wasn't her own.

A figure of black and gray moved into her field of vision. "Hey Crys, you remember me?"

His digits brushed the back of her hand and her fingers twitched at the touch. With that sensation came the realization that she just wasn't eyes looking out. There was a whole body attached and she shifted experimentally.

"Okay," Ratchet announced, “she is fully online. Let's get her sitting up."

Large hands grabbed her and gently pulled her into a sitting position, legs dangling off the table. She still didn't have enough thought in her head to be confused. She was just there. When they made her sit up, she put some effort into telling her body to use its muscles to stay in that position.

A face moved in front of her, lights blinking as words were spoken, and it captured her attention.

"Crystal, do you recognize me?"

She stared at the face for a while. Searching her memory for him almost felt like she was physically shifting through a sack of photographs.

"Wheeljack."

"That's, right," Wheeljack said, sounding pleased. "Can you raise your right hand?"

She could.

"How about the other one?"

She did as well.

Wheeljack held up his hand to her.

"Touch my palm with one finger."

She reached out to touch it, but looked confused when she didn't feel anything on the tips of her fingers.

"Her depth perception is off by about two inches," Wheeljack reported.

"Recalibrating," Ratchet responded as he typed away at a keyboard.

Jazz moved back into her line of vision, standing behind Wheeljack and looking doubtful.

"You sure you did it right?" he asked. "She's not like herself at all. She just sits there like, well, like a robot." His voice lowered. "Maybe the transfer didn't work. She was so damaged..."

As if on cue, she felt an extra surge in her system and everything suddenly felt a clearer and faster. She stretched her neck, one side then the other as if trying to pop it. She rotated her shoulders, turned at the waist and then stretched her legs. She brought a hand up to her face and then wiggled her fingers. Then she inspected the back of her hand. The entire thing was painted black.

"What _is_ this?" Crystal demanded.

Ratchet smiled. "There it goes. The personality is always the last to load."

Jazz grabbed her hand, pulling it down so she would be looking at him.

"Hey, Crys, do you remember what happened?"

She looked him in the face as she tried to access her most recent memory. An expression of horror came over her with such clarity. She remembered standing in the parking lot, then she felt the impact on her skull. Then nothing.

More alarming than that recollection, now she was here, surrounded by Autobots and she was very nearly their size.

“I should be dead,” she said in barely a whisper. Then louder, “What's going on? What am I doing here? What did you do to me?”

“It's okay, Crys,” Jazz said calmly. “You'll be fine. We'll explain what happened.”

But her brain was already putting the pieces together more rapidly than she could handle. The reality of her situation seemed horrific, nightmarish. She wanted nothing more but to run away and leave it all behind.

Yanking herself from Jazz's grip, she attempted to flee from the table. She only made it about two steps, however, before collapsing. Her body and her brain were still not quite in tandem. Wheeljack deftly caught her smaller form before she landed on her face.

"Balance is off."

"Recalibrating," Ratchet responded and typed away again.

Crystal hung limply in the inventor's arms as she looked at the cords still plugged into her back. "What is this?" she demanded, weakly struggling to find her balance again. "Am I in some sort of metal shell? Is my body in here?"

"Uh, no," he replied as he sat her back on the table. "We downloaded all the information from your brain onto a personality hard drive, which was quite a feat considering how horribly damaged your head was when we-"

"Wheeljack," Jazz hissed, making frantic cutting motions to get him to shut up.

"So anyway," Wheeljack tried to recover, "we put the digital version of your brain into this new body. We're just trying to get all the kinks out of it so you can function properly."

Crystal opened her mouth, but she could form no words. Was thing really happening? Or was this some sort of messed up dream? How was she expected to respond to all of this?

Wheeljack moved next to Ratchet to look over the technical information on his computer screen. Jazz remained at her side, but stayed silent.

Still too stunned to form any proper emotional response, Crystal gazed in wide eyes around the room. Everything seemed so big, but, at the same time, also around her size. Movement at the corner of her vision caught her attention and she glanced at the door in time to see an Autobot, whose back looked like Prowl's, exit the room. There was still another Autobot standing near the door. His bright red paint was a stark contrast against the pale walls.

She raised her hand to him in a vague greeting. Seeing that he was noticed, Optimus Prime left his place against the wall and approached the table.

"How are you feeling?" he asked the question all Autobots seem to ask her.

The problem was, Crystal had no idea how to answer. The whole concept of "feel" was a completely different issue in this situation.

"Is this supposed to be permanent?" she asked. If this was something temporary, maybe she could deal with it.

The Prime's body language indicated discomfort, but Wheeljack spoke for him.

"As far as getting you back to your own body, that is not an option. It is no longer able to support life."

Crystal grew silent again, letting that sink in.

"Crystal," Wheeljack continued, “this is Ratchet. He's the head of our medical staff. He's very good at what he does and he's going to make sure that-"

"No, wait," Crystal cut him off sharply. "Stop! Stop!"

They stared at her as she gave them an almost desperate look.

"Why?" she begged. "Why would you do this to me?"

The Autobots looked at each other, trying to figure out how to explain.

* * *

 

 

The door to the Ark's modest rec room flew open, startling the vew Autobots relaxing within.

"Where the hell is he?!" Crystal demanded.

No one had ever seen her before, but they all knew who she was. Still, none of them were prepared for her to immediately go rampaging through their base.

"Uh... where is who?" Cliffjumper dared to ask.

"That damn police car!" Crystal screamed as she clenched her fists vengefully. "I'm going to kick his ass!"

Several fingers instantly pointed to the control room.

* * *

 

 

Prowl turned from where he stood in front of Teletrann One when he heard a high voice scream his name. A small fist collided with his face and he stumbled to the floor, more out of shock than from the force of the hit.

Crystal frowned at how unsatisfying that hit was. Her new body had hardly any physical power in it. She felt cheated.

"You son of a bitch!" she spat as Prowl sat, stunned, on the floor. "No wonder you took off earlier! How could you do this to me? I'm your friend, damnit! You're supposed to let me die with a little dignity, not haul me back to some science lab! Look what you did to me! What made you think I wanted this?"

By the last sentence, she was kicking him every few words. Again, she was frustrated with the lack of power behind her kicks. It just made her want to kick him more.

A pair of hands grabbed her gently, but firm enough to pull her back. Crystal spun around to face who dare get in her way and was surprised to see an Autobot that looked startlingly like Prowl. It threw her off guard enough to cause her to forget her rage, until Ratchet came in with rage of his own.

"Hells bells! What kind of circus is this?!" he demanded. "You just can't run out in the middle of a system diagnosis! You want to die again?!"

Crystal was trying to come up with a retort when Ratchet picked her up in his arms without any warning. She gave a surprised squeak and opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but Ratchet beat her to it.

"I don't care who is being blamed for what right now. You are my patient and, as such, my word is law. You are not allowed to so much as look out the repair bay doors until I am finished with you and that _will_ be obeyed from now on. If not, I will make sure you are not physically capable of leaving."

At the threat of bodily harm, Crystal sat limply in his arms, optics wide with stunned surprise. Prowl shared a similar look of stumped confusion as Crystal was carried out of the room.

* * *

 

 

As Ratchet proceeded with his systems check up, Crystal took all his poking and prodding in a listless manner. All her fire was gone now. She seemed to have settled into some sort of overwhelmed stupor. Ratchet surmised she was in still in shock from everything. He allowed her quiet meditation on her new situation and only spoke to her when he had to.

"Why do you keep rolling your shoulders like that?" he asked after a while of noticing it.

Crystal shrugged and did it again. "Feels ... weird. Like I have a heavy blanket all over my skin. But, it's prickly, too. It doesn't feel right."

Ratchet took a mental note. He anticipated it would take a while for her to get used to a new body. The transition from an organic shell to a metal one certainly would not be easy. He expected her to feel odd for a time. It would be the symptoms that did not go away after a while that he would worry about.

"Well, I've checked everything I can for now," Ratchet announced. "But for the next several days, we're going to be monitoring you closely and I'm afraid you'll be subject to many more examinations. However, as time goes on, if everything stays functioning as it should, those will become less and less, alright?"

Crystal didn't respond. No questions about why they needed to watch her so closely or what might happen if anything should go wrong. She just sat there blankly as if she didn't hear. Or worse, as if she didn't care. That made Ratchet worry.

"Crystal."

She looked up at the sound of her name.

"I want you to keep me updated any time you feel any change in your condition. It's very important that you do so. Anything. Do you understand?"

She nodded slightly.

"Okay, then you're finished for right now. You can go."

Crystal looked up at the dismissal, suddenly more aware and animated as she glanced around the room. She was in a foreign, alien place with nothing familiar and certainly nothing of hers.

"Where am I supposed to go?" she asked softly.

Ratchet stared at her, realizing there was something they had overlooked. They couldn’t just expect her to leave the med bay and merrily hang around the base like she had always lived there.

Wheeljack was one step ahead of him this time.

"I've been moving things around in the back area. She can use it as her own personal space since we never use it, and we need her to stay close by anyway. After a few days, we'll have found a more proper place for her.”

He reached out a hand to Crystal. She hesitated to take it, staring at his metal digits as if having never really looked at them before. Putting her own metal hand in his, she finally allowed herself to be helped off the table. Wheeljack led her to the back corner where a cot-like construct was placed on the floor. Several large machines, whose purpose Crystal could only guess at, were stationed around to give it a feeling of privacy.

Crystal sat herself down and hugged her knees. The smaller area did make her feel a bit more comfortable. Was this how she was expected to live from now on? The thought made her feel like she was five-years-old again.

Wheeljack crouched down to her level. “What do you think?”

They needed to stop asking, she didn't have a clue what to think. “It's fine,” she forced out, wanting the questions to stop.

“Can I get you anything?”

Frustration roiled in her chest. Stop asking! She couldn't take any more questions.

“Can I just sit here for a while?” she said in a strained voice. “I just want to be left alone.”

Wheeljack didn't seem offended at all. “Take all the time you need. Ratchet and I will be in here all night. If you have questions or you need anything, just ask. If you want me to go get anyone for you- anything you want, Crystal- you just let us know. Anything at any time and we will do whatever we can.”

She nodded, but didn't look at him, wishing he would just go already. Wheeljack put a hand on her shoulder and Crystal instantly flinched and tightened at the contact. He pulled away and stood up.

“Any time you’re ready.” Wheeljack turned and left

The repair bay went back to its normal hum as the medic and inventor went back to their work. There wasn’t a sound from Crystal’s corner for several.

Every once in a while, one of them would peek in to check on her. They found Crystal the same every time. She was curled up in the corner, knees to her chest and staring at the wall.

At one point, there was the sound of shuffling in the back, but Crystal never came out. Wheeljack snuck back to see what was going on. He saw Crystal still sitting on the cot, but she had a piece of shiny metal in her hands. She was gazing at her vague reflection with such an expression on her face that Wheeljack thought it best to continue to leave her alone.

A few more hours passed with no activity. There was nothing else to do but check on her every now and then to make sure she was still functioning. The longer her lack of interest with the outside world, the more it concerned them. It was expected Crystal would need a little time to come to terms with her current situation, but the two Autobots charged with her health worried that she was taking longer than was necessary. Something might have to be done if she didn't take the initiative to drag herself out of that stupor soon.

As luck would have it, something was done in the form of a pair of orange and gray legs that strolled casually through the repair bay and stopped by the back corner.

Crystal was sitting like she had been, knees up with her back and head against the wall and staring blankly into space. She took no notice of the visitor until he crouched by her cot. Finally, she swiveled her head to look at him, no expression on her face.

The Autobot grinned. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

She just looked at him.

“You know,” he prodded as he sang lowly, “ _hooked on a feeling, high on believing, that you’re in love with me..._ ”

The edge of Crystal’s mouth twitched. “Blaster.”

“Yup, that’s me. I’m coming in.”

“What? Wait-”

Blaster didn't wait. He was already attempting to crawl into the area that was too small for his lanky body. Crystal made a few noises of protest as her space was invaded. There were a few bumps and grunts as the two clamored around. Blaster ended up with an annoyed Crystal sandwiched between himself and the wall, half draped over his lap.

“Come here, let's fix this.” Blasted righted the smaller body, tucking her against his side.

Crystal remained stiff at the contact. She really didn’t like the feel of someone else touching her. But Blaster seemed immune to her pouting.

“Kind of a little too quiet here all by yourself,” he said as he looked around.

She didn’t respond.

“Are you doing okay?” Blaster tried again. “We could find you someplace else to stay... like back to my room if you like.”

That didn’t get any response out of her either.

Blaster put his hand on her head, his tone more serious. “Hey, you’re not doing this by yourself, okay? It’s new and it’s scary, but you’re not alone. I won’t let you be. There’s a lot of us here that won’t let you be. So you don’t have to be afraid. We will make sure this works out, you just have to let us.”

The hand that had been on Blaster’s chest clenched as Crystal heard those words. More than anything else, she hated to admit that she was scared or that she needed anyone’s help. She didn’t want the situation to be out of her hands, she didn’t want to rely on others. And now she had no choice. Despite herself, she moved closer to the Autobot and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

Blaster pulled her in tight and began humming some tuneless melody. The song was soothing and she could hear the vibration of his voice deep in his chest along with a slow thrumming that sounded almost like a heartbeat. For a while, his presence made her feel better and his voice, for a time, chased away the darkness.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end of that story. I'm sure some of you saw this coming, maybe some of you didn't. Not the best story out of my series, but a necessary part of it. This Transformers series was actually written several years ago, this is just the first time I've posted it on AO3. And before that, this was an attempt at rewriting an even older and much worse series I wrote when I was in high school.
> 
> Hence, the cringey and over-used cliche of turning a human into a Transformer. But I have always been the kind of writer who loves to tackle a cringe-worthy and cliche trope and try to make it palatable. Of course, only the reader can say for sure if I succeeded or not. But I gave it my best shot and tried to put together a believable character and a good story to go with it.
> 
> Here is the part where I beg for comments. How did you like this story as a whole? I would love to hear your thoughts. At the very least, I think the plot of this fic was quite unique. Though, as I mentioned before, I don't feel it's the best book of the series.
> 
> I will be posting the next story here shortly titled "The Autobot Files" which I feel is a higher quality story. I hope you will follow me to the next book and that you will enjoy.
> 
> Thank you so much everyone! I appreciate you taking the time to put your eyeballs on this story. Much love!


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